


Inevitable: Short Stories

by Annie_Walker



Series: Inevitable Series [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BAMF Pepper Potts, Dark Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Happy Hogan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:42:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29907510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie_Walker/pseuds/Annie_Walker
Summary: Short stories that occur during the Inevitable series
Relationships: Happy Hogan & Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Inevitable Series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1398985
Comments: 14
Kudos: 47





	1. A Fighter

**Author's Note:**

> AU to Inevitable series ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James Rhodes confronts Tony before a tragic incident interrupts them.

Rhodey caught himself.

It would have been a disaster if he didn’t. He would never hear the end of it.

Lately, he cannot help, but constantly think it. Maybe it’s the way the boy walked or how the boy spoke with a hint of mischief glee. Or, simply it was the witty banter from the young man’s mouth.

All of it reminded Rhodey of another fifteen year old boy, walking among adults, out of place, yet belonging with them.

“Colonel Rhodes, sir?”

Granted, this fifteen year old was more polite.

Rhodey blinked, drawing his eyes to Peter. The boy’s doe-like eyes peered up at him, wonder in the irises as he waited for Rhodey’s attention to him. When their eyes met, Peter stood a little straighter, almost at attention.

“Rhodey, Peter,” the colonel said. “But if you feel uncomfortable with that, just drop the title.”

Peter’s face crinkled. “Rhodey… Rhodey… Rhodes,” he tested. “Mr. Rhodes, sir?”

Close enough, Rhodey decided. “What is it?”

“Why did you join the military?”

The question surprised Rhodey. No one ever asked him that. Not recently, anyway. His association with Tony Stark, before and after Iron Man, made his position in the military understandable. It made sense to the public, but Peter’s inquisitive inspection expressed doubt.

Nonetheless, Rhodey answered promptly. “To serve and protect my country.”

Peter’s brows arched high, mouth curled down in concentration. “No… I mean, you went to MIT, right?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Rhodey didn’t understand where this was going or how it correlated with his military career. “… to get an education,” he answered.

That didn’t satisfy Peter’s inquiry. “I mean why didn’t you go to West Point or straight into military?” he followed-up. “If you wanted to be in the military, why did you attend MIT rather than military school?”

Rhodey was at a loss for words. No one ever posed that question to him. Most simply forgot he attended MIT and it was there on the campus he met Tony Stark. Many people thought he met Tony Stark through the military. No one remembered James Rhodes boarded with the mechanical prodigy Tony Stark at MIT. Rhodey didn’t forget though. He remembered having to deal with a fifteen year old, staying up super late, destroying their dorm room and dealing with all the chaos and gossip surrounding him.

Peter waited patiently for an answer, for which Rhodey had to think because it was not a question he was used to answering. “Oh, well, prior to the military, I was interested in aerospace engineering,” he said. “Figured MIT was a good place to learn.”

“A rocket scientist,” Peter hummed. “But… why the military? Not NASA?”

“Military had far more opportunities, more money, funding, etc.” Rhodey listed off. “Plus, it was with the US Air Force, one of the strongest sections of our military. Got to be able to pilot different jets. Ever rocket scientists’ dream, right?”

Peter acquiescence. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” he answered, but a wicked glint of mischief tugged at the corner of the boy’s mouth again. Uncannily like Tony whenever he caught Rhodey in a specialized trap. “So… you didn’t actually join the military to protect the country. You did it to joyride fighter jets.”

He swore to God that Peter Parker was a mini-Stark in the making. He made a mental note to limit the boy’s time with Tony. No need for the boy to absorb Stark’s personality. One was enough for the world.

“Alright, alright,” Rhodey said as Peter smothered his chuckles at the look of Rhodey’s indignation. “You clearly need to hang-out with better people.”

“You mean like Vision?”

Oh, God—no! Not Vision. Not that the android was bad, but he lacked proper social skills and etiquette of his own. He was more and less mature in many ways, and Peter needed someone who already was fully grown and understood human interaction. Or at least, how to function in a humane manner.

“Let’s just start with me,” Rhodes suggested. “If that’s all right.”

Peter shrugged. “I’m cool with that, but you’ll probably get bored of me soon enough.”

Rhodey tilted his head, brows furrowed at the sudden denouncement. “What?”

“Most adults do,” Peter quickly explained. “It’s okay. I know I can be annoying and troublesome. Happy says it all the time. Captain Reynolds ignores me half the time. And Mr. Stark… yeah, well, he probably wants nothing to do with me after I wrecked his workshop.”

“Have you talked to him?” Rhodey asked. It’s been nearly a week since the workshop incident that incited a rift between Peter and Tony. Not exactly a rift. Mostly just Tony keeping himself preoccupied in his workshop and avoiding anyone and everything.

Peter shook his head, fingers wrangling. “No, and I don’t need to. I’m fine. I can… I’ll be fine. It’s not like he was a part of my life from the beginning. I can live without him, and he seems fine without me.”

Stunned, Rhodey shook his head. “Wow. You sure you aren’t related to Tony?”

Peter’s face wrinkled, baffled as he recoiled away from Rhodey. “What?”

“Both of you guys are avoiding each other when you should be talking,” Rhodey said to clarify his meaning. “Tony hates having to be open with his feelings. He keeps that to himself unless pried out. Usually by Pepper. Sometimes by me. But you—you don’t need to pick up that habit. Don’t hide, Peter.”

“I’m not hiding,” Peter countered, stubborn in his expression. “Everyone knows where I am at any part of the day. If he wants to talk to me, he can. It’s not like I can go back up there and speak with him. I don’t get that kind of freedom.”

“Have you even tried?”

Peter looked away, blowing out a huff of air in annoyance at the sudden turn of the conversation. “Whatever… it doesn’t matter,” he said. “I have driving lessons with Happy… maybe. He’s not that eager to help me learn, and I think without Mr. Stark there to insist it, I might actually have to go to afternoon practice instead.”

The kid backed away from Rhodey, turning down a different corridor than the one they were currently walking. “I’ll see you around Mr. Rhodes,” he said, waving his goodbye. “It was great hanging-out with you today. Bye!”

Before Rhodey even had the chance to hold him up, to have another discussion, Peter was already at the opposite end of the corridor, turning around a corner and disappearing. Rhodey sighed, hands on his hips as he shook his head in grievance.

So much like Tony that it was no longer humorous to him.

Thinking of which…

Rhodey moved forward toward the elevator, contemplating on a speech as he went in search of his dear, old friend.

* * *

Rhodey input the passcode, overriding whatever protocols FRIDAY was ordered to follow by Tony. Rhodey didn't give a damn. There was a kid downstairs, down-trodden because Tony ignored him. Like he always does when Tony gets too emotional to deal with something or someone. 

He strode into the workshop, easily spotting his old friend in the center. Tony sat in his seat, a hologram over both his arms. His brown eyes stared hard on the holograms, lips pinched in concentration before he gave one arm a wiggle, making it disappear. He touched the other hologram with his free arm, tinkering with something that looked nothing like his Iron Man armor. 

Diligently, Tony labored over his workbench, not once glancing up as Rhodey made his approach. The man could tune the whole world out, even if it flames sprouted all around him. He rolled his chair around the workbench, switching hands on different tools, and calling out to FRIDAY to tweak this or correct that, all with one arm encased in a hologram.

Rhodey stopped a few feet from Tony. The man continued to work on, uninterrupted.

"Not going to say anything?" Rhodey called out to him, surprised Tony hadn't even made an attempt to acknowledge his entrance.

"I didn't exactly invite you in here, so no," Tony replied as he finished whatever the hologram was. He wiggled the arm again and the hologram disappeared. Tony swirled his chair around to face Rhodey. "Did Pepper send you down here?"

"No, Peter did.”

There was a slight flinch of surprise in Tony’s face.

“Not vocally,” Rhodey amended and Tony spun back around to the workbench. “Just spent some time with him. For a tiny human, he’s a big bundle of nerves. Keeps second guessing himself.”

“Doesn’t everyone these days?”

Rhodey frowned. “He thinks you hate him. Thinks you won’t let him back in the lab ever again.”

“And maybe I shouldn’t,” Tony retorted as he hunched over microscopic chip, clipping wires together. “Did he tell you what happened?”

“Yes, and honestly, I think you were right to suspend his access to the workshop—”

“Thank—”

“But I also think you’re being an ass for ignoring him these past few days,” Rhodey continued, walking around Tony to the other side of the workbench, to force Tony to see him and hear his words. “He’s a kid, Tony. A nerdy, anxiety-ridden kid who is eager to please and eager to join the ranks of his hero.”

“And eager to die.”

Tony rolled his chair down the workbench, back to a series of hologram screens. He busied himself, deliberating avoiding Rhodey now.

Rhodey stared at his friend for a long moment. He noticed a softness hidden under that iron focus, but Tony wouldn’t budge from whatever fear he held. It convoluted Tony’s thoughts, taking full control of his mind and driving him into this mess of a person. He lacked sleep, proper nutrition, and the stress bore heavily on his face with all the fatigue lines dented into his skin.

“He’s not going to die,” Rhodey said after that moment passed, quietly pressing that line into his friend’s mind. He hoped he heard it. Hoped that Tony understood that his fear was irrational. “I’ve been training him. He’s good. A fighter, even. He won’t go down easy.”

“He won’t at all,” Tony mumbled, still avoiding Rhodey’s gaze. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“That’s not up to you, Tones.”

“We’ll see.”

Rhodey huffed in exasperation. “Man… you can’t just have a kid like Peter stay secluded up here in the Compound forever, and you can’t keep ignoring him either,” he argued. Hell, he sometimes even wonder why the kid was at the Compound to begin with. Tony said the kid had no family left, but… to keep him stowed away at the Compound with no one his age isn’t healthy for a kid. “He’s so much like you, it isn’t even funny anymore. That kid is going to go crazy if he doesn’t get a chance to do whatever a Spider-man does.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Tony slammed a disk on the table. “How the hell do you think he got into this situation? Because, like me, he did something stupid. Reckless. Life-threatening. And to hell if I am going to watch him make the same mistakes I did. No… no… he’s gotta be better.”

“So you’re just going to toss him aside until he proves it to you? Is that it?” Rhodey challenged him. “Throw him away until he’s good enough to be in your presence?”

“That’s not what I mean,” Tony growled as he messed with the different hologram parts. “I have big plans for the kid, but it’ll all be for nothing if he gets himself killed.”

Rhodey blinked and then turned his eyes from Tony to the holograms. He watched one hologram flicker into a model, something similar to the Iron Man suit, but… less bulky. What the hell was it?

“What are you doing?” Rhodey finally asked, wanting to know what was more than talking to Peter. “What is all… this?”

“Glad you finally asked,” Tony replied and he span his arms out, blowing up the one single hologram that contained the model. “Take a look.”

Rhodey peered up at the life-size hologram model. It rotated, allowing Rhodey to get a good look at it all. He noticed the synthetic skin-like suit, the different color scheme of blue and red and gold, the machines hooked on both wrists, the large, black-white eyes looking down right at him, and…

A large, spider symbol in the center of the model’s chest.

Rhodey leaned back, looking passed the hologram to where Tony sat. The man kept tinkering, fixing something here and there, but he looked up when he saw Rhodey.

Rhodey pointed to the hologram. “Is that—”

“It’s a suit for him,” Tony said, studying the suit’s hologram design in front of him. “Made out of nanites, so it’ll act on instinct rather than vocal commands. The suit is impenetrable, so it should protect him from everything. It can withstand heat, cold and space. I included a parachute too, although I have no plans to have him flying through the skies like he originally wanted. He’s going to stay on the ground.”

Rhodey finally understood Tony’s withdraw. He wasn’t hiding out or avoiding. He was planning, working on correcting his fear for the boy. He built a suit to protect his kid if he wasn’t there to do it himself.

Oh, Tony…

Something flew up at Rhodey’s face. His combat instincts kicked in and he caught it. It was a notebook, and when Rhodey flipped through it, he saw a dozen or more designs of different Spider-man suits.

“The kid’s been designing his own suit since I allowed him to work on the armor,” Tony explained. “That’s why he did that stupid stunt. Trying to build his own and… nearly killed himself.”

Rhodey checked a few of the schematics Peter created before he set the notebook down. “So, this is what you’ve been doing all this time?” he said. “Trying to find a way to keep him safe, even from himself?”

“More or less,” Tony agreed. “I told Pepper… I can’t sleep yet until I know he’s not going to get himself killed.

“And yeah, I know he’s Spider-man. That’s why I’m building this suit. So when he goes out there, saving the world, he’ll have this,” Tony nudged to the suit, “to keep him from breaking every bone in his body. I can protect him with this suit.”

The hologram died out. The systems shut down. Tony got up from his seat, walking back to the storage units he lined up behind him.

“Seeing Peter hurt, even if it was a minor burn and some bruising… I realized that I had to do something,” Tony continued from where he started storing the Spider-suit information and contraptions. “The kid was already itching to build, so I figured I could beat him to it. Build him a suit with protocols and monitors that would keep tabs on him. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid or reckless. It was something I knew I needed to get done right away, because in my gut I know something bad is going to happen.”

Rhodey cocked an eyebrow. “Bad? Like what?”

Tony returned to the workbench. He sagged forward, dropping his hands onto the workbench for support as he frowned in trepidation. “I don’t know,” he confessed, “but something. Pepper says it’s my anxiety again. Making me think things will go bad, but… I don’t know. All I know is that I gotta protect the one thing this world needs.”

Rhodey opened his mouth to follow-up on that statement, but his words were cut off by a quick interruption by Tony’s AI.

FRIDAY’s voice crackled overhead. “ _Boss—Peter Parker is currently suffering under extreme distress. He is experiencing abnormal fluctuations of his heartrate and blood pressure, and his neurotransmitters are faltering._

Rhodey looked back to Tony. The man already jumped and sprinted out of his workshop, abandoning everything. Rhodey gave chase as Tony shouted at FRIDAY for a location. Peter was in the secondary training salle. That meant they had a ways to go.

When they arrived at the training salle, they didn’t expect to find it torn apart. A trail of ripped up wood panels led to the locker room entrance. Two women, dressed in workout clothes, along with a huge, muscular man holding down another, much scrawnier and looney man.

The muscular man—Luke Cage, if Rhodey remembered—jerked his head toward the path of destruction. “He’s in there!”

Neither he nor Tony said a word before they raced to the locker room, avoiding the splintered floor. The locker room wasn’t much different from the gym. Tiles were torn apart, both on the floor and wall, like a major fight broke out. For a split second, Rhodes had the horrible thought that Peter may be dead.

But, to his greatest relief, sounds of cries and hushed voices came from the back near the showers. Tony wasted no time shoving his way, stepping over the broken tiles until he reached the showers first. Reynolds and another individual was already there, both trying to help someone sprawled in the middle of the shower room.

Peter.

Water rained down, the shower knob and head ripped off the wall and flooding the small area. Peter didn’t move from his curled position on the floor of the shower, letting himself get soaked as another young man tried to coax Peter to speak. But, Peter kept hyperventilating. His sobs labored as he constricted more into himself, eyes fastened closed.

Tony shoved the man out of his way, crouching down beside Peter without a car that he too was getting wet. “Peter.”

Rhodey stood by, but turned to Reynolds. “Did you call medic?”

Reynolds nodded, looking stricken. “Y-Yeah. Right away. They should be here any minute.”

“What happened?”

“I… Powers, he… I’m not sure.”

The young man stood up. “Powers gassed him in the face,” he told Rhodey. “With what, we don’t know. Luke’s got him in a tight grip, but… I don’t know. Pete here just went berserk. Tore everything apart as he ran here.”

Rhodey looked back down at the small, whimpering form. Tony had a hand on the kid’s back, trying to coax him to open his eyes.

“Peter,” Tony said, voice calm despite the terror screaming in his eyes. “Hey! Open your eyes for me.”

Rhodey didn’t think Peter could hear him, but then a small voice squeaked out. “Am I dying?”

“You’re not dying,” Tony stated as his hand gripped Peter’s arm. “I got you. You’re okay, but I need you to open your eyes.”

Rhodey checked behind him. The medical team hadn’t arrived yet and already, Peter’s state of health appeared to be declining. His small statue, laying in a pool of water, shaking and crying, was the opposite of when he last saw the boy. What the hell did this Powers fellow do to him?

Peter shook his head. The wet curls plastered against his forehead as he shook and cringed over whatever the drug was doing to his mind and body.

Tony pulled Peter up, holding him in his arms now, pressed against his chest. “C’mon, please open your eyes!”

They needed to see them. If anything, to know he wasn’t blinded. But Peter refused at first. He kept them shut and stayed quivering in Tony’s arms. Then, slowly and with a great amount of strength within him, Peter’s eyelids fluttered. It took a few tries, but the eyelashes curtained up, revealing a pair of dark brown irises that bore right into Tony’s face.

Tony visibly relaxed, the water splashing against his face as he remained sitting in the middle of the showers. Rhodey too was thankful that Peter recognized them, could see Tony and—

“Uncle Ben?”

The relief slipped off Tony’s face as Peter’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. FRIDAY’s voice returned, updating Peter’s health and alerting them all that he’s undergoing a mild seizure. Rhodey never believed any seizures were to be mild. They were all bad in his book.

Tony whipped his head up and around to them. “Where the _hell_ is medic?!”

“Coming, sir!”

Three people arrived behind them. Two carting in a gurney, and another a doctor with all sort of equipment in his bag. It didn’t take long to load Peter’s unconscious form onto the gurney, buckling him in as the doctor set up an IV, testing and shouting at his companions to work here and there.

Tony stayed closed and followed, holding Peter’s hand in a grip lock. He left of wet footprints behind him, his hair a sloppy mess and water dribbled down from his chin as he stayed closed to Peter’s side. The doctor said nothing of it as they wheeled Peter out, running as they ordered a Code Blue. Dr. Cho reported she was on route with her own team to take-over.

Rhodey ran to keep up with Tony. His friend didn’t even blink. “Find out what the hell happened in there,” Tony spat out his order. “I want to know everything.”

Rhodey nodded and stopped, turning back around to the disaster. He called in for reinforcements, notifying Happy Hogan to get his ass to the medical wing. Someone would need to be there to tame Tony’s outburst and since Pepper was in New York that meant it was Happy’s job.

When Rhodey returned with armed, SHIELD agents, Reynolds stepped up in front of his recruits, who huddled in confusion and sorrowful regret. Except Luke Cage, who still had Powers pinned to the floor.

With a glance, Rhodey already pictured what happened. He heard enough about this group from Peter. Luke and Jack may be the only two who gave a damn about the boy, but even they didn’t act terribly interested in his well-being. But Powers… Rhodey knew Powers. His little jokes were always played down as innocent annoyances, but not this time. This time, Rhodey planned to make a good example.

He strode up to Reynolds. “You’re already in a shit-full of trouble,” he told the captain. “Best you tell me everything, starting from the beginning.”

Reynolds confessed what occurred. Powers sought retribution against Peter for a previous duel, and he gassed the boy. Luke and Jack jumped Powers and wrestled him to the ground, stealing away his gadget that produced the gas. Before anyone could help the boy, Peter fled to the locker rooms, tearing up the floors as he went.

Apparently, Peter broke the showers and fell, screaming and crying and choking. Nothing Reynolds or Jack said brought him to his senses, and then Tony and Rhodey arrived.

Rhodey asked the recruits separately, and they too conveyed the same story. Powers attacked Peter. Gassed him some kind of drug that made him go insane. The SHIELD units already locked Powers down, chained and muzzled, like the animal he was. Rhodes looked on at the man, disgusted by his venomous attitude. To attack a child… revolting!

Two hours passed before the training salle’s doors burst open again. Tony Stark, eyes wide and wild, stormed up to the group. Happy Hogan trailed behind him, pained and guilty.

Rhodey went to intercede Tony. “I got what you—”

Tony shoved Rhodey aside. He marched up, right in front of Powers. The captive man rolled his eyes up, twinkling in delight at the attention. That lasted only a split second. A cloud of fear shrouded that gaze and Powers suddenly cowered, but it was too late for him to beg mercy.

Tony’s wrist gauntlet activated and he pummeled Powers right in the face.

They all heard the sickening crack of bone and teeth. To untrained ears, it was a horrible, squirming sensation to hear shattering. Powers didn’t fall though. He swayed and wobbled, blood trickling down from his nostrils.

No one jumped at Tony. No one made a move to stop him. Rhodey knew he should have, but there was a sense of pleasure in seeing Powers being bullied, being hurt. He didn’t move at the first punch, or the second punch. Instead, he watched with righteous grief, knowing that Tony was beating down a monster.

But, when Tony went for a third punch, Rhodey knew he had to stop it or else Tony would murder an unarmed man. And that wouldn’t rest well on Peter’s conscious nor Tony’s. Rhodey grabbed Tony from behind, using his strength to force Tony away from the crippling mess of Jonathan Powers. Tony wrestled, attempting to throw Rhodey off him as he aimed a good kick at Power’s stomach. He missed, but he continued to try to do whatever he could to continue his punching of Powers.

“Let it go, man!” Rhodey shouted into Tony’s ear. “Stop! It’s not going to help Peter.”

Happy hurried to help and together, they managed to get Tony under control. The man burned with rage, teeth clenched and grinding as he glared at Powers. Deep, ragged breaths echoed between them, both feeling like they were running a mile a minute, even though they stood frozen in place.

A minute passed when Tony finally spoke. “Send him to the fucking Hole,” he declared. “He can fucking rot there for the rest of his life.”

And then he stormed out, just like the way he came in. No other words. No other commands. No updates on Peter. Nothing. Two punches and a direct order.

Happy followed after him, jogging behind to keep up with his retreating boss. SHIELD agents gathered the beaten Powers and carried him off. They were going to deliver him to Dr. Reed Richards at the Baxter Building. No one else said a word. His old teammates stood stunned and horrified, but expectant. They watched it unfold in silence.

Reynolds stepped forward to Rhodey. “Colonel Rhodes… I want to apologize—”

Rhodey held up a hand. “Save it,” he said. “I don’t have time for you right now. My friend needs me, and so does the kid. You’re dismiss. Internal affairs will handle it from here on out.”

With that, Rhodey departed while the rest of the SHIELD agents finished up the report. Rhodey traveled to the medical wing of the Compound. He arrived to a hectic scene, people running all over the place in frantic steps and words. Rhodey heard Dr. Cho shout out instructions to those around her, and everyone did their best to comply to her wishes.

The only person quiet was Tony. He stood behind the window of the operating room. Arms crossed over his chest, mouth pressed so thin that it almost vanished, and his eyes stared hauntingly right at Peter.

All semblance of cool, confident, and self-control was thrown out the window, replaced with gripping terror. His eyes were wide with pain and Rhodey almost thought he could hear screams coming from Tony’s own mind, but that was only his imagination.

He stood next to his friend, giving him a silent companion as the two watched Dr. Cho aggressively work on saving the boy’s life. Rhodey didn’t know if he would be okay or not, but he prayed to whoever had the highest authority on life.

Rhodey sucked in a deep breath. “He’s a fighter,” he murmured. He didn’t know if Tony heard, but he hoped he did. “He won’t go down easily.”

He saw Tony blink, registering his words, but he said nothing. Didn’t matter if he spoke or not. Rhodey knew. Peter would live. He’d survive this like he survived everything else thrown at him.

Peter was a fighter.


	2. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Hogan debates who he owes his allegiance to

Happy Hogan didn’t know what to do in that moment. A lot was happening. A lot of things he didn’t expect or prepare for. Nonetheless, he stood there, stunned, as everything and everyone around him went insane. 

Tony ordered him to go fetch May Parker. To bring the woman back to the Tower, back to him for… Happy didn’t quite know. Peter seemed to know. He went berserk, fighting off Simon and Paul to get to Tony. The boy was furious and desperate and terrified.

Tony heard the commotion. Happy watched Tony’s face when Peter shouted at him. The hardness, followed by leniency before it turned back to his stubborn front.

“Happy!”

He jerked, swinging his head around to look at Peter. He saw that poor, broken boy’s face as he fought against the others’ restraints, stepping forward against their combined strength. Peter’s eyes were red and sore and brimmed with pleading tears.

“You promised! Y-You promised she wouldn't—"

Something happened. Peter hissed and then his body swayed. Things slowed down.

Peter’s head flopped around, his begging words slurred. “Hap…py… pleaseeeee? Hhhaap…”

Simon and Paul loosen their hold on him. Peter dangled in their arms, but he kept fighting. His eyes slowly blinking, trying to stay focus.

“Y-you… promised…”

A last exhaust before Peter swooned, crashing head first. He almost cracked his head on the floor, but Simon scooped him up quickly. The drug was meant to make the boy relax and send him into a deep, undisturbed slumber. Peter’s eyes were closed, but his face contorted with grief. Extreme grief. A troubled helplessness.

They carried the boy off. The second Peter was gone, Happy saw Tony visibly slouch, dropping a hand on the console and the other hand running down his face. A long, drawn sigh fell from the man’s lips, his mouth pinched in thought, reconsidering.

“You’re not serious about sending the kid to the Hole are you?” asked Happy.

Tony didn’t bother looking at him. “He made his choice.”

“He’s a kid!” Happy shouted, astonished that Tony showed no emotion on that regard. Happy knew how much Tony adored the kid. “He’s angry. He’s scared. He’s… he’s scared, Tony. You should have seen the look on his face when I found them. He was scared and bleeding and shaking—”

“Wouldn’t have happened if he stayed where he was supposed to,” Tony snipped in reply, eyebrows dangerously low. “Running off like that? After everything I’ve done for him and… forget it.”

Tony flippantly gestured, rounding the console to bring more distance between himself and Happy. “Damn that kid,” the man muttered. “Everything was going right and then… good lord! He’s testing my patience.”

Happy closed his eyes briefly, letting the silence settle between them. “You keeping Peter down there forever?”

Tony whipped his head up so fast Happy swore he heard a snap of the man’s bones. “What? God—no!” he said. “Only for the weekend. And then… then we’ll go from there. But for now, it’s just for the weekend. Two days.”

Not forever. That was a good sign. Happy preferred Tony didn’t send the kid at all to the Hole, but when Tony was in this state, it was hard to get the man to see reason. His impulsive behavior got the better of him and he would target anyone. Including Happy.

Tony ran his fingers down his jawline, eyes focused on Happy. “Shouldn’t you get going?”

Happy had to think. Then, he remembered. “You were serious about that too?”

“Yeah.”

Happy’s mouth fell. “B-But… I told the kid—”

“I don’t care what you told him,” Tony said, flippant. “Go find the aunt and bring her here.”

Happy didn’t move, but he swallowed uncomfortably. His eyes flickered back to where Peter once struggled, fighting to defend his aunt from Tony before he was knocked unconscious. Peter’s pleas and reminders of his promise rang in his ears.

“Hhhaap… Y-you promised…”

He did. He promised Peter that nothing would happen to his aunt. No harm would come to her if he got into the car. Peter did. He got into the car and allowed to be taken back to the Tower. All in the belief that Happy’s promise wasn’t false.

Happy didn’t lie to him. Not at the time he promised. He guessed it didn’t matter, because Tony turned it into a lie. The promise neutralized by the one command.

“What are you going to do to her?” Happy asked, nervous and not truly wanting to know. Almost best to be ignorant to avoid a crisis of morality.

Tony looked at him. “I’m not going to hurt her.”

“I didn’t say—”

“You’re thinking it,” Tony cut in, offended. “I don’t know what silly promise you made to Peter, but if it eases your conscious, nothing bad is going to happen to her.”

It helped a little. Only a little. “What then?”

Tony moved away from the console, heading over to another set of doors. Not the same ones that Peter disappeared from a few short minutes earlier.

“I am going to talk to her,” he answered, grabbing the door handle. “Sit down and talk. Nothing more.”

Happy nodded, thinking how talking wasn’t so bad. Talking meant compromise. Peace. No need for excessive force or violence.

Tony opened the door and paused in the threshold, eyes narrowing at his old friend. “That is… if she ever gets to coming around here.”

Happy threw up a quizzical expression before he realized what Tony hinted. “Right! Right. I’ll just… go now.”

“Yeah.”

And Happy hurried off, back to the car he parked nearly fifteen minutes ago. He drove it out of the garage, back onto the streets as he drove right into Queens. Completing another task for his boss. 

Yet, Happy’s hands steered him in the wrong direction. He didn’t head back to the alleyway out in Forest Hills. He never reached the place where he found Peter and his aunt.

Happy took a detour. He stopped in Astoria, parked near the bridge and beside the river’s park. He killed the engine. The whirls diminished after a long exhaust of the car, sinking into quietness.

He got out of the car and took a walk. Not a long one. Only until he found a good bench to sit to contemplate everything that fuddled with his brain. He sat, thoughts in turbulence as he tried to figure out what went wrong. The day started fine in the morning.

* * *

_Earlier that day_

Happy never believed he would ever hear Tony talk so much about a kid. A project? Yes. Some new weapon Stark Industries created? Yes. Girls? Yes. A kid? No.

Children and Tony Stark never correlated with one another. No one looked at Tony and saw “fatherhood” or “parent” or even “mentor”. Tony Stark didn’t do kids. He received a lot of paternity suits, but all of them were false. He never minded nor did he ever worry because deep down, even _he_ knew that being a father wasn’t in the cards for him.

And yet, here Tony was, dressed in fine apparel like his good, old days of running Stark Industries and playing the playboy personality. Except, this time, he had Pepper Potts, his fiancée, on his arms and unabashedly retold Happy everything Peter did when they walked around the company’s headquarters.

“You should have seen him, Happy,” Tony said as they all took the elevator down. “Talked the engineers in circles. It was unbelievable! Should have seen their jealous faces.”

Happy pictured it. Peter Parker running around the labs of the R&R department, talking excessively about every design and asking a billion questions on it. It was what the kid did with Tony down in the garage when they worked on cars together. Or up in the workshop when Tony allowed Peter to assist in developing new Iron Man designs or products for Stark Industries. Peter spat out words too fast for his mind to keep up, tripping over himself constantly. But, Tony let the boy wind himself up and go. Happy could see it happening at Stark Industries, especially with more people around trying to get a sneak peek of their future boss.

The elevator binged and Pepper stepped out first with Tony holding back to talk to Happy. A private discussion as it was. Pepper must know about it as she chose not to stay and listen.

“Be with you in a second, honey,” Tony told Pepper before he turned on his heel to speak directly to Happy. “I need you to stay here with the kid.”

“Seriously?” Happy said. He didn’t mean to sound upset by it, but he thought a night off meant, well, a night off.

“Yeah, he’s by himself upstairs,” Tony said. “I tried to get him invited to the party, but Pep shot me down. She had a point, but… anyway, the kid is alone upstairs.”

“And you want me to sit with him? Hover over his shoulder or something?”

“Lord—no,” Tony said, rolling his eyes at Happy’s ridiculousness. “I’m saying the kid might get lonely up there all by himself. All I want you to do is check in on him. Make sure he’s not bored or anything. I told him to watch a movie or something, but I fear he might do homework instead.”

Happy stared. “You want me to make sure that Peter is _not_ doing his homework?”

“Don’t say it like that,” Tony gestured. “I want you to make sure he isn’t bored out of his mind.”

“He’s a teenager. Don’t teenagers hate adults interfering with their lives or something?”

“Well, Peter isn’t a normal teenager.”

“I figured that out myself.”

Happy didn’t mean the spider abilities Peter possessed. He meant the other thing. The thing Tony plotted out for months. The future. _His future_ as Tony explained. The boss had big plans for young Peter. Great and brilliant plans! But, it needed to be handle with care. It couldn’t be rushed and there was time. They had time, according to Tony.

Tony smirked at his old friend. “Of course you did,” he joked, but then he shifted back to seriousness. “Just check-in on him? Make sure he’s okay. And if he’s dying of boredom—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Happy grunted, knowing the drill well enough. He was Tony’s bodyguard during his playboy days. He knew the routine. “I’ll play a board game with him. Turn on _Barney & Friends_.”

Tony patted Happy on the arm. “That’s the spirit!” he said, cheekily. “Now. Gotta run and ignore a bunch of facetious people. Hopefully, I’ll only be gone for an hour, but… all depends on Pepper.”

“At least you’re not babysitting.”

Tony smiled, truly. “Would rather be doing that than this.”

He gave a quick salute goodbye to Happy as he hurried across to the doors where Pepper waited. The couple went through the doors and outside to their awaiting car. The car Happy would have drove if he wasn’t stuck here to watch their newborn son.

Happy recalled the first time he encountered young Peter Parker. At the beginning, he heard the boy’s name only in passing. Happy learned of the brief escape attempt, the boy’s impressive feat of jumping over the fence, but that was it. Nothing of him until Tony saw him in the little courtyard on a cold, winter day. That was day Happy met him for the first time. He remembered how relaxed the kid appeared, sitting on a bench covered in snow, not caring about the chill setting in the bones of anyone who walked outside. He looked at peace until Tony called out his name. Happy never saw anyone stiffen in such a quick response. It was like the cold finally reached the boy’s heart, making him a full on Popsicle.

Peter Parker was nothing more than a stranger in Happy’s world until that day. That day in the courtyard, and the time afterwards, was when Tony brought the boy into their secret fold, taking him to all their normal hang-outs and introducing him to the regulars like Pepper Potts, Colonel Rhodes, himself…

Soon, Peter became a part of their familial unit. The “Kid” or “Underoos” as Tony sometimes dubbed him. The kid reminded Happy of a puppy. An over-excited bundle of nerves, Peter often chattered nonstop which grated on Happy’s nerves. The kid’s timid nature was not good for driving lessons either. Happy experienced miniature heart attacks every time the boy second-guessed behind the wheel. Why Tony thought it was a good idea was beyond Happy’s comprehension. Then again, Tony liked to do things for laughs. Kicks and giggles sometimes.

Nonetheless, the boy was kind-hearted, happy and overall a bright light in their lives. Happy liked him well-enough and he had a good effect on Tony. Happy noticed. Everyone did.

What happened between Tony and Steve Rogers was painful. A catastrophe. It dismantled something no one recovered from or rebuilt, but somehow, Peter went against the odds. He brought a lightness to the gloom that hung over the Avengers’ Compound since the break-up. He summoned hope in Tony, in others too. Maybe the kid never realized what he was doing and it probably didn’t matter, but Happy was grateful to see his old friend coming back to life.

So when Tony asked him to look after Peter, Happy did it. He grumbled and griped a lot, but Happy secretly didn’t mind it as much. He would check on the kid, make sure he was fine and not doing anything ridiculous. Not that he thought Peter would. The kid had a good head on his shoulders. Nothing like Tony Stark. Someone better.

Happy didn’t check right away. He wanted to eat his dinner in peace and then watch a portion of _Masterpiece Mystery!_ on PBS. He relaxed, feeling a slight weight off his shoulder until he glanced at the time. It was almost an hour since Pepper and Tony left. Best go check on the kid.

He rode the elevator up to the penthouse. He knew the codes and he easily accessed the apartment. The lights were all on, per expected, but what Happy noticed immediately was how quiet and still the apartment was.

“Peter?” Happy called out as he went through the first floor of the apartment. The kid wasn’t in the kitchen or in the living room. “Hey! Kid?”

Maybe Tony was right. The kid was up in his room doing homework. Nerd.

Happy went up to the next floor, but even that was empty of life. Happy hurried to Peter’s bedroom. “Hey kid?” he shouted. “You better answer me or I’ll kick your—”

Peter wasn’t in his room. It was left untouched. The bed. The desk. Everything.

A coldness seeped into Happy’s stomach. “Oooh… oh no,” he said, sweat beading along the crown of his head. “Oh… FRIDAY?”

_“Yes, Mr. Hogan?_ ”

“Where’s Peter?”

_“Mr. Parker went out.”_

Happy’s heart dropped in terror as he flipped out. “What?”

_“Mr. Parker left the Tower at 7:10 PM_. _”_

Happy’s swore his heart gave out. He couldn’t even hear it beating over the screaming panic in his head. “Where?”

Happy ran to the elevator, jabbing the closed button repeatedly as he shouted at FRIDAY. “Tell me where he is?”

“ _He is currently in Queens. He appears to be in some kind of vehicle as he is moving faster than normal._ ”

What the hell was the kid doing in Queens?! And he better not be driving! Oh no… what if someone kidnapped him? Like Thaddeus Ross? Or Nick Fury? Or Steve Rogers. Oh no… no, no, no. This was bad.

Happy panicked. Tony was going to eat him alive. Scream at him to deaf. But he had to let Tony know of the situation. It may require Iron Man.

“FRIDAY! Garage!” Happy huffed. “… and keep me updated!”

He pulled out his phone, dialing as his foot tapped with impatience as the elevator descended.

Then, a static clip and a cheery, but wary voice answered the line. “Happy? Is the kid throwing a kegger party? If so, make sure he’s doing it right. Don’t want to embarrass himself. And make sure he doesn’t puke over the couch. Pepper got it refurbished or whatever—”

“Tony—”

“—make sure he stays hydrated too,” Tony went on. “Wait—oh no… don’t tell me he’s _actually_ studying. I told him not to do that. Underoos doesn’t listen—“

“TONY!”

That shut the man up. Happy breathed deep. “Peter is missing,” he said. “FRIDAY is tracking him right now. He’s in Queens. I’m already on my way to the car. Don’t worry! FRIDAY is letting me know—”

Dialed tone. Tony hung up.

That’s not good.

* * *

Still not good.

Happy had sat on the bench for over twenty minutes. He let out a stream of frustrated air out of his lungs, head cocked back as his eyes searched the stars for answers. Didn’t people do that? In desperation they looked to the heavens for a miracle? Happy could use one at the moment. Or something. Anything at this point.

This was not what he expected his day off to be. All he wanted was to eat his dinner in his pajamas, watch PBS and sleep for a solid, nine hours.

Then again, when did Happy ever get what he wanted?

The whole world flipped tonight. It spun him circles. His anxiety spiraled him into a fit of nausea. God—he wanted to throw up. It had to be one of his worst nights of his life. He never imagined his night to end up… well, here. Peter incarcerated in the Hole and Happy with orders to bring the aunt to the Tower.

Happy didn’t even know Peter had an adult in his life. Peter was an orphan. An only child with no family. No one to take care of him. That’s what everyone knew at the Compound. That’s what everyone believed. If they had known about the aunt, Peter wouldn’t be living in the Compound. Right? Right?!

Happy rubbed his hands over his face, elbows propped on his knees as he tried to steady his quickening heartbeat. What the hell was going on? How did things get this far messed up?

The morning started off perfect. Everyone was happy, content and life was moving onward from that horrific rip in their universe. And then the kid destroyed it all in a single night. In under two hours, everything went pitch black. Happy was blind and confused, stranded as he tried to weave his way through the mess

Happy sagged, thinking if Peter simply stayed put at the Tower, then none of this would have happened. Peter wouldn’t be rotting away in the Hole and Happy wouldn’t be on a park bench, reconsidering his role in this dilemma.

Why couldn’t Peter stay put? Why did he have to run off and make things far more complicated than it should? He shouldn’t have left the Tower. Better yet, he shouldn’t have left the Compound. Should have kept him behind the walls of the Compound. That way Happy’s little world wouldn’t have broken all over again. No mess to clean up. No worries to dwell on. Nothing. Everything would be fine!

Except, claimed the little voice in the back of Happy’s mind, it wouldn’t be. It never was. All of it a lie from the beginning.

Happy dejectedly sigh. Slowly, he got up from his seat on the bench. He knew what he had to do. He had a job—an obligation. He fixed his jacket, shoulders straight back as he schooled his face to be passive.

Happy made his way back to the car. He run the engine, pulling out of the parking space. He drove through the quiet night, knowing it was about to get louder and crazier.

But he had to deal with it. Happy’s been employed to Tony Stark for ages. He faced everything, including storming through the playboy days, the kidnapped months, Iron Man, Avengers, the break-up, the assassination attempts, the bad press, the Accords and certainly more things he just can’t seem to think of at the moment.

Tony Stark’s life was never dull or quiet.

Happy wished it would. These past few months with Peter around made their world a little saner, and a whole lot quieter.

Not anymore. Things were about to explode and Happy hated that he was driving straight to it.

There wasn’t a choice for him. After all, Happy made a promise.


	3. The Fury of a Patient Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper finds out what Tony did to Peter

Pepper Potts marched down the long corridor.

She passed a series of windows, not once taking a peak out at the thriving city. Employees who passed her in the hallway, smiling and waving at her were ignored. She didn’t have the time nor the mood to put on a polite face. She already postponed her trip to Austin for a series of conferences. When she got the text from Happy, she ordered her driver to turn around and go directly back to Stark Tower.

Her stilettos stabbed the tile floor and if she had the Hulk’s strength, the floor would be riddled with little holes that trailed behind her. Pepper was goddamn furious! Her whole body went up degrees, face contorted into a livid expression that made the employees who tried to smile at her tremble and stumble away from her warpath. 

Pepper got to the doors she wanted and ripped it open. She pulled too hard, the doors opening in a loud eruption as she stormed right into the room where she spotted her fiancé, Dr. Reed Richards, Happy Hogan and another random individual who sat in front of a series of monitors.

Tony Stark looked surprisingly puzzled by her appearance. He pushed Dr. Richards aside, hurrying up the stairs to greet her—or block her.

“Pep!” he said, lighting up with that same, old charming smile that always won everyone. “What happened to Austin? Took my advice to ditch it and go to Fiji?”

Pepper scowled at him, heart flaring up in agitation. “You get him out,” she hissed at Tony, not at all caring how she loomed over him from her position on the stairs. “Get him out right now or I swear to God—”

“Okay, okay,” Tony tried to placate her. “Look, it’s complicated—”

“No, it’s _not!_ ” Pepper snapped, her voice cracking the silence in the room. “I can’t believe you! I can’t—I don’t even want to look at you right now.”

She tried to move around Tony, but he side-stepped with her. He took her arms, holding her in place to keep her from running past him. His voice lowered for only her ears to hear. “Pepper, listen to me, please,” he pleaded. “He’s fine. Okay? I’m keeping tabs—”

“Oh? And that makes it _fine_?” Pepper accused, her whole body bristling. “You threw _Peter_ into the Hole! _Peter!_ ” She shook her head, trying her best to not strangle him. “Nothing you have to say will make it any better!”

“I’m doing my best—”

“Your best is sending him to the _HOLE?_ ”

“He ran away!”

Pepper threw up her hands, aghast at the ridiculousness of Tony’s rebuttal. “Ran away? He’s from New York, Tony! He grew up here in the city,” she threw back. “He probably went off to visit his friends!”

Tony scrunched up his mouth, sniffed as he glanced away. Pepper studied his features and instantly recognized that expression.

Pepper sharply inhaled. “You know something,” she said, stepping away from her fiancé. “What do you know? What are you not telling me?”

When Tony didn’t answer and kept that silent smolder, she looked to where Dr. Richards and Happy stood. Both of them acted nothing was wrong and not hearing their argument. But, Pepper knew Happy enough to know he heard everything. She focused on him and Happy squirmed under her gaze, dropping his head away in a solemn, remorseful look.

Oh God, Pepper thought. Happy only had that look when things were regrettably bad.

“Tony… what did you do?”

Tony huffed at her accusation. “I didn’t do anything,” he said. “I’m fixing it.”

Pepper shook her head. “Don’t lie to me,” she warned. “What did you do? What’s going on? You wouldn’t be acting like this if it wasn’t serious.”

“I’m handling it,” Tony gritted.

If Tony wasn’t going to cooperate, that was fine. Pepper turned her attention to Happy. Her old friend. “Happy?” she demanded. “Why did Peter leave?”

Happy’s face looked gobsmacked, mouth gaping like a fish out of water. His eyes bounced between her and Tony, struggling to answer her question and looking for a reprieve. Which meant he knew something too. Something wrong. Something bad. Something Tony wanted to keep hidden.

Pepper may not have a sixth sense like Peter, but her intuition was strong and at the moment, she knew that whatever Tony told her about Peter was a lie.

It sent chills straight to her heart and her abdomen flexed tight, pained at the itching realization that Tony lied to her. He deluded and tricked her into something that wasn’t right. It clearly wasn’t right if Peter got sent to the Hole. Peter, of all people, that beautiful, innocent child to be sent to one of the most wretched places in the universe… yes, Tony manipulated her and him. But for what? What purpose?

She didn’t give a damn. She wanted one thing and then she would gone.

"I want Peter out."

"We're working on that right now," Tony assured her. "Reed is making the call, so why don't you go up to the penthouse and wait until I get back? I'll tell you everything. I promise."

"I'm not leaving until I have Peter."

"I'm extracting Peter from the Hole, but he'll need time to recuperate. You can see him then once I—"

"You're not getting it," Pepper cut him off. "I'm not leaving until Peter gets out, and then I am taking him with me."

Tony cocked an eyebrow. "You're taking him to Austin? Honey—I don't think he'll be up for a weekend-long techie conference."

"I cancelled the conference in Austin. I'm booking us a vacation."

Tony looked mildly surprised, but pleasant as his lips twitched up into a half-smile. "Oh? So you really are considering Fiji. Great! I'll pack our bags, but we'll need to wait a couple of days for Peter to—”

"No," Pepper interrupted, silencing Tony with that one, sharp rejection. "I'm taking him away from you _!_ We are going to Fiji. Not you."

Tony’s mouth pinched, eyes darker than normal, but it was nothing Pepper couldn’t handle. After all their years together, Pepper never feared Tony Stark. Never feared the man or his counterpart. Disappointment, anger and embarrassment, sure. Fear. Never.

So, she had no problem standing up to him at this particular moment. She was going to win.

He took her arm. Forceful, but not hard enough to hurt. Only to make her aware that it was necessary. “Let’s talk somewhere private,” he uttered, before he redirected her back up the stairs to the exit doors.

Pepper went along. Here or there, it didn’t matter to her. Nothing he had to say would change her mind.

They easily found another empty room and Tony ordered FRIDAY to put it on privacy mode. Usually, that setting was only for intimate moments between the two of them, but Pepper knew the chances of them getting viscerous were slim.

Once alone and with no one to overhear, their match began.

“How could you do this?” Pepper swung first. “How could you look me in the eye—your fiancée—and lie to me?”

“You are blowing things way out of proportions,” Tony retaliated, returning hard. “I didn’t lie about anything! Nothing is—”

“If nothing is wrong then why in hell is Peter in the Hole?”

“I already told you!”

“Simply running away doesn’t make sense!” Pepper fired back. “Where would he go? He has no home to run too. Friends—yes! I get he wants to see his friends while he’s in town, but for you to run off from a party because Peter stepped out… there’s more you’re not telling me and I want to know. Now!”

“I told you already!” Tony flustered, face getting redder. Probably as red as hers. “Peter isn’t supposed to be out of the Compound. We took a risk bringing him here to New York. Ross would have a field day if he found out Peter was MIA from the Compound and send God-knows-who to go capture him! Maybe Deadpool again? Bullseye? I don’t know! And I wasn’t going to risk it. If Peter wanted to see friends—fine. We could have done that under stricter conditions, and avoid Ross breathing down my neck or have an excuse to take Peter—”

“Oh please!” Pepper scoffed, defiantly crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not one of your old blonde, bimbos, Tony. I know you’re not afraid of Ross. You never were. I know you hold more power over that man than he holds over you. Hell—you’re the one running this whole superhero affair!”

Tony aggregately raked his fingers through his hair. “What do you want me to say Pepper? ‘Cause, apparently, you already think everything I say is a lie!”

“Because you’re lying to me now! We’re supposed to get married next year and… how can I be your wife if you won’t tell me the truth.”

“I’ve always told you the truth.”

Pepper cocked a challenging brow. “Oh yeah? Then why did you send Peter to the Hole?” she questioned. “What did he do besides taking a step outside the Tower that got him dropped into that hellhole?”

She watched Tony inhale deeply, his muscles around his jaw twitching as he started to pace. “We got into an argument. Originally, I had Happy to simply bring him home. He came back and… well, words were exchanged and things said that… well, that I completely regret. One of them being the order to drop him into the Hole.

“I didn’t even mean it,” Tony confessed. “I got angry at him for… God—it was stupid. We were both being stupid.”

“That’s already been established,” Pepper hotly agreed. “You didn’t answer my question though—why?”

Tony’s brows crinkled in confusion. “What do you mean _why_?”

“Why was it such a big deal that Peter ran off to Queens?” Pepper asked, staring directing at Tony, her gaze unmoving. “And don’t say it was because of Ross. I know that’s bullshit, so tell me the truth Tony. If you love me, you will tell me the truth.”

“Pepper—”

“ _Tony_.”

Tony’s mouth grew tight. His eyes dancing with thoughts or possibly more lies. Then, they settled, right on her, those large, expressional eyes into his soul locked on her and her alone.

“Peter ran off to find his aunt.”

The world must have crashed down on her because she felt flattened. Smashed down with a large hammer, struck like a quick whiplash that left her spinning. Her head split open and her heart cracked, breaking and flooding her insides with cold fear.

The shock must have shown on her face because Tony hurried to be by her side, but she automatically took a large step back from him.

“Aunt?” she said, the word stuck in her throat, a merest murmur.

“Yeah, a, um, May Parker to be exact. Not related by blood or anything, but—”

“You said Peter was an orphan.”

“He is,” Tony emphasized to her. “His parents died when he was four or five years old, I think.”

“But he’s not an orphan. He has an aunt,” Pepper said. Her mind raced, but her heart ran faster. “He had an aunt this whole time?”

“She was well-cared for. I sent a bunch of people to check-in on her, make sure she was doing all right,” Tony said to justify himself. “Transferred money into her account. Paid for things—all out from our pocket—”

Pepper’s stomach rolled and flipped, making her nauseous by the second. All this time, Peter had family, an _aunt_ waiting for him to return, to be reunited. And Tony covered it up. Paid everyone off, tried to throw money at the woman. Oh Peter! She remembered him mentioning his aunt and uncle several times, but… Tony said they were dead. Or the uncle died and the aunt couldn’t take care of him. Or… some kind of lie. Something!

He made her believe Peter to be all alone in the world. 

“Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God,” Pepper endlessly muttered, hands clutched a fist full of her hair on both sides of her face as she comprehended what Tony had done. What she had done as well. “Oh God!”

She needed to sit down. No—she needed to throw up. Wait, no, she needed to scream and cry and punch. No—she needed to get out. Get away from the Tower. Away from Tony.

Pepper moved around Tony, walking quickly to the doors to get out.

Unfortunately, her stilettos were no match against Tony’s sneakers. He jumped in front of her, blocking the doors. “Pepper—wait!” he said, holding his hands up to stop her. “I know you’re angry and confused.”

“I’m beyond both of those!” Pepper seethed, her hands curled into fists at either side of her, “and if you know what’s best for yourself, you will let me out this second.”

“I don’t want you to walk away angry. Not without getting the full story,” Tony replied with urgency. “Pepper… Pep? Look—I am fixing it. I’m sending Happy and a team out to find Ms. Parker to bring her to the Tower. That way, she _and_ Peter can live here. Together. As a family.”

Tony took her hands in his own, bringing them up close to his own lips. “See? I can fix this,” he swore. “Starting with Peter. I owe that boy a much larger explanation. You as well, but, please—give me a little more time to right the wrongs. Then you and I, and Peter if he wants to, we can fly out anywhere in the world. Just the two of us. Or three, if Peter comes.

“C’mon, Pepper,” Tony murmured so sweetly as he dropped a kiss on her knuckles. “Please? Wait a little longer. Just a little longer and then, I promise you, everything will be fine. I’ll tell you everything. _Everything_. Then we can go and live out our lives in peace. I promise. Just… give me a little more time.”

Pepper wanted to believe him, but wanting was not the same as knowing. She yanked her hands out of his grasp, mouth taut. “I’m going to the Baxter Building,” she said. “I’ll pick Peter up from there.”

And she grabbed the door handle, shoving it open as she stormed off, leaving Tony by himself to contemplate his wrongdoings and repulsive behavior.

She got back outside. Her driver waited on her, opening the back door as she ducked inside the vehicle. She quickly strapped in her seatbelt and ordered the driver to take her to the Fantastic Four’s headquarters.

He nodded and steered them out to the city roads. Pepper drew up the divider, giving herself the needed space and privacy to collapse and weep. Tears poured out of her, every droplet holding a memory of Peter as he lived with them over the past few months. She cursed the mere thought that she assisted Tony in keeping Peter away from his aunt. She mourned over the swelling joy she had in her belly when she watched Tony and Peter interact, thinking of how fatherly Tony was with the boy and that maybe, one day, the two of them could have kids. She agonized over the sense of loss, her relationship with Tony taking a heavy blow. A blow they may not recover from… ever.

Pepper’s hands shook. Both in rage and heartbreak at the sudden flip of her life. Her mind befuddled with questions. How? Why? What? When? All sorts of different questions that she never got an answer to. Perhaps because there was no answer. Or, maybe, the answer was too hard to swallow for her.

In either case, Pepper needed to get Peter and keep him safe at all cost. Even if it is from the very man she loves.

Oh God, Tony, Pepper disconsolately thought. What have you done to us?


	4. I'm Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony listens to the last recording of Peter Parker

_“Please… please… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please—please, let me out. Please! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please Mr. Stark… please… I’m sorry.”_

Tony stopped the message. He moved the dial on the screen.

_“Please… please… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please—please, let me out. Please! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please Mr. Stark… please… I’m sorry.”_

He stopped it again. His eyes rested on the floor, staring at nothing. Yet, he saw what he heard with such clarity it was almost like he was right in the room with Peter.

_“Please… please… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please—please, let me out. Please! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please Mr. Stark… please… I’m sorry.”_

Tony returned it to the beginning again. He listened to the boy’s labored sobs, the cracks in his voice as he called out to Tony. Calling him to help him—save him.

_“Please… please… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please—please, let me out. Please! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please Mr. Stark… please… I’m sorry.”_

The pleas stopped. Tony took a deep, troubled breath as he drew a hand down his face, wishing to erase everything that happened the past week.

Regret settled in his gut like a heavy, poisonous lead. It blackened everything inside of him, rotting him out. In his heart, he retracted all the wrongs he committed, but it wasn’t enough to expunge him clean.

_“Please… please… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry—_ ”

Tony stopped the recording, but the boy’s voice continued on in his head. Tony balled his hand, fingernails pinched into his palms, drawing the pain away from his heart.

His misplaced anger hurt the one person that didn’t deserve it. Too Self-absorbed with entitlement, with righteousness, that Tony failed to fulfill his promise. And his failure resulted in pain and suffering.

“ _Please—please, let me out. Please! I’m sorry. I’m sorry—”_

Tony rewound the recording again. He recalled the memories of that night, diligently analyzing his faults again in hopes that this time around, his haunted mind would be content with his self-professed remorse.

It never was. Always returning like the unforgiving ghost that it was. The cold voice that cruelly mocked him, hissed terrible words to him, reminding him of everything that went wrong.

_“Please Mr. Stark… please… I’m sorry.”_

Tony shut his eyes. Peter called out to him. Called his name, begging for help. And Tony… he… he didn’t hear it. Didn’t even bother to check. Didn’t care to worry. Allowed that selfishness swallow him and keep his passive anger a lit. Meanwhile, Peter wilted away, slowly decomposing in the Hole.

_“Please Mr. Stark_ — _”_

He buried his face in his hands. Callouses caressed his cheekbones and jawline, scrapping along his skin as he sunk further into his hands. The plague pulsed through to his heart, making him emotionally bleed upon hearing Peter’s voice over and over, saying his name again and again.

Peter called to him. Peter begged for him to help. Peter… Peter wanted Tony to save him.

And Tony didn’t.

_“—Mr. Stark… please… I’m sorry.”_

Instead, another answered the call. He heard the boy’s cries and came. Tony watched the video. Saw the magic portal open in front of Peter. Witnessed the street magician appear before he slashed at Peter’s bindings with magically created mandalas, freeing the boy. Tony sucked in a breath when he watched Peter fall into the magician’s awaiting arms, carrying him away and out of Tony’s grasp.

In that brief aftermath, Tony felt a sense of grand relief. Only a second ticked passed, and Tony was comforted to know Peter was no longer suffering in the Hole anymore.

It only lasted a second before his temper returned. Someone got past their defenses, invaded the Negative Zone without tripping alarms or even being in the Baxter Building. Magic had no effect in the Hole and the Hole’s influences did nothing against the wannabe Harry Potter. And now, that individual invaded Tony’s domain and took Peter.

He took the boy away and threatened the future Tony planned.

Tony spent days researching the invader. Even with SHIELD’s intelligence, Tony struggled to get answers on their latest adversary. It wasn’t until Tony tracked down a man named Jonathan Pangborn.

The former paralytic answered all of Tony’s questions. He explained his miraculous recovery, someone called the Ancient One, and then another name. A Doctor Strange, who sought out to learn the ways of the mystic arts as well. When Tony showed him the picture of the intruder, Jonathan nodded his head.

“That is Strange,” he confirmed. “Looks like he made it far up the ranks.”

It was all Tony needed. He had a name. Doctor Stephen Strange, a former, famed neurosurgeon who lost his mobile ability in his hands after a terrible accident. He wondered around New York, trying to find a cure, but eventually disappeared for months before returning to New York dressed like a comic book villain. At least, that was what many of his former colleagues described when Tony interviewed them. They all said he came back a different man, someone who was radicalized by ancient monks or whatnot.

Tony used his technology advancements to help locate Dr. Strange and any other mystic arts’ users. He sent out troops all around New York in hopes to catch one of them, find their headquarters and rescue Peter.

That was over a week ago and Tony never spotted Dr. Strange or another magician. Nothing. Tony had found nothing. He found other rogue, enhanced individuals, but he didn’t find Peter.

Tony hit the play button again.

_“Please… please… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please—please, let me out. Please! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please Mr. Stark… please… I’m sorry.”_

He stopped it. Rewound. Play again.

_“Please… please… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please—please, let me out. Please! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please Mr. Stark… please… I’m sorry.”_

Rewound.

_“Please… please… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please—please, let me out. Please! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please Mr. Stark… please… I’m sorry.”_

“Boss? I do not find this to be a good coping mechanism for you.”

FRIDAY was talking to him. Probably noticed his elevated heartrate and troubled breaths.

“I’m not using it as a coping mechanism,” Tony replied to his AI.

He hit the recording again. Peter’s scared, choked voice returned.

_“Please… please… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please—please, let me out. Please! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please Mr. Stark… please… I’m sorry.”_

Tony sniffled, rubbing his nose. God—he hated himself. It was all his fault. Peter shouldn’t have been in the Hole. He should have listened to Happy. Should have not let his famous “Stark temper” get the better of him. Should have comforted Peter. Should have listened to the kid. Should have explained to Peter.

Tony should have been there for him.

_“Please… please… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please—please, let me out. Please! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please Mr. Stark… please… I’m sorry.”_

Tony stopped the recording. He looked up, back to the holographic scene where Peter was strapped tight to a platform. The boy’s head was down and tears streamed down his cheeks as he stayed trapped in that little prison cell, all alone and tortured by the effects of the Negative Zone.

_“Please… please… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please—please, let me out. Please! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please Mr. Stark… please… I’m sorry.”_

“I’m sorry,” Tony returned in a sad murmur to the holographic image of Peter Parker.

_One day_ , Tony thought to himself, _I’ll be able to say it in person._


	5. The Iron Gauntlet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony Stark uses the gauntlet

Tony Stark looked around the destroyed hellhole of a planet. Chest heaving, body hot underneath his iron suit. Sweat ran down his whole body, beading up along his forehead. The nanites readjusted himself, sealing up his wounds that those idiots managed to hit. Five against one though wasn’t bad. He survived. They didn’t.

He took a deep breath, glancing down at the gauntlet possessed in his hand. It glittered, the stones bright with power. All that power. Right in his hand. He can protect Earth. Protect his friends. Protect his loved ones. Keep the future bright and hopeful.

Safe.

Tony remembered. He checked the last place he saw Peter, but all he found were two holes and scattered dirt from where the boy must have freed himself.

“Hey, Underoos?” Tony called, eyes checking every rock formation and upright junk, hoping to find a human boy. “… Peter?!”

No response. Nothing. Tony scanned around him, passing over the crippled, dead bodies of Star-Lord, Drax, Mantis and some weird-looking robot girl. He stumbled over the rubble, head snapping back and forth, searching for a lone figure among the scene.

Where was his kid? Where did he go? Why couldn’t he stay put? All he had to do was stay where Tony left him.

Tony stopped when he spotted Dr. Strange laying haphazardly. The wizard. Tony remembered he threw some kind of ring of fire or lights at Peter. Tony fired a shot at Strange to stop him from hurting Peter. He watched his bolt slam right into the wizard’s unprotected chest. Watched the gold mandalas flutter out of existence as Strange collapsed to his knees before keeling over.

Tony thought he spared Peter from Strange’s manipulation. But Peter was nowhere to be seen on Titan, which meant the wizard did something to his kid.

He stomped right up to Strange, flipping the man onto his back. The wizard was alive. Barely. His chest struggled to rise and blood trickled down his forehead and more pooled right in the middle of his stomach where Tony’s plasma blast struck.

Yet, Strange did not moan or beg. His inquisitive, blue eyes stared directly back at Tony. Unafraid and calm.

Tony hated the man. “Where is he?”

Strange grinned. “Gone,” he rasped out.

Tony’s whole body burned as he snatched up the wizard’s robes with a clenched fist. “Gone where?”

Strange gave him no response. Only that same smug victorious smile until his eyes dimmed and his mouth slackened. He was dead.

Tony flung the wizard down. Strange lied. Peter wasn’t gone. He was still here—somewhere! Hiding maybe. Or knocked out by accident. But he didn’t disappear. Tony walked a little, hand close to his mouth as he called.

“Peter!” he rang, his voice carrying over the dead “Kid?!”

No response. No returns. Silence.

Tony dropped his arms. He marched over to where Peter was last seen. The boy had been running. He stupidly removed himself from his secured and safe position to dart right into the fray. When would that boy ever learn?

He recalled seeing Peter dashing across the outer edges, feet stomping in a rush to get to the bug girl. Tony walked over to Mantis, her body coiled onto herself but unmoving. He looked around, checking behind ruins and rock formations, but no sign of Peter. No sign of any living creature.

No, no, no, no, no… it’s not how it was supposed to go. Peter was supposed to stay put. Wait until Tony eliminated the danger. Now, the boy’s gone and Tony didn’t know where. Didn’t know if he was hurt. Or scared. Or if he was even alive! No—Tony had to believe Peter was alive. The boy’s resilient. He survived whatever Strange did to him.

The stones hummed and glowed again, alerting Tony to their attention. He sighed, knowing that staying around on Titan wouldn’t do any good. Peter wasn’t here. Nothing was here anymore. Time to go.

He marched back to where the wizard laid dead. His gaze fell on the necklace that stored the Time Stone. Tony snatched it up and with his suit’s power, crushed the artifact in his hand to reveal the green stone.

Carefully, Tony set the stone into its new home on the gauntlet. The stone sealed itself into the gauntlet and a rush of energy washed over Tony, power pulsing from the gauntlet. He breathed it in before he looked down at the gauntlet, noticing only a single spot remained empty.

He knew exactly where the last stone resided.

Only problem was in regards on how to get off this dead rock. He could try to pilot himself back to Earth, but he didn’t know how far away he was or if he even could pilot a spaceship. It didn’t matter. It was his only option.

The stones glowed again, the blue one burning more than the others. Tony examined it, wondering what the reason was the blue stone shone brighter than the others. The stone looked familiar. Kind of like the Tesseract.

The space in front of him rippled, like there was a small tear in the fabric of the universe. Odd as it didn’t seem possible, but the blue stone glowed stronger until the tear split open before Tony. A gust of wind swelled out and Tony squinted to see what occurred. On the other side was somewhere familiar. The Avengers Compound. How…

Tony looked back down at the gauntlet, the blue stone blazed and its power reigned in front of him. He held back a snort. Of course, why pilot a spaceship when he could simply create a portal with the stones? The gauntlet must have read his mind and created the necessary access to get him to where he needed to be.

He walked through the rip, the heat retreated from his face as it hit cool, filtered air from a nearby AC unit. He heard a rippling behind him and the blue stone faded back to its normal color. Titan was gone. Tony was home.

“Sir?”

Tony looked up and saw Vision, dressed in slacks and a dark navy sweater that made his red skin pop. What really drew Tony to Vision was the stone at the center of his forehead. It brightened, glowing sharper than Tony had ever seen. It was in the presence of its brothers, yearning to join.

Vision peculiar gaze flickered from Tony to the gauntlet in his hand. “I see.”

He hated the long look Vision gave him. The android had no idea. He didn’t know what it cost him and to see those penetrating eyes judge him, it incensed Tony. He wanted Vision to know what he lost. He wanted Vision to understand his grief and anger and…

Heartbreak.

“I lost the kid.”

Vision visibly soften, crestfallen. “I am sorry.”

The android may struggle to comprehend human emotions and be unable to outright express it, but Tony understood Vision’s complicated expression. The android doted on Peter, hovering around the boy to watch with incredible awe at Peter’s growth at the Compound. Vision saw the same potential Tony saw in the boy, and it was for that reason Vision became protective of Peter. Their only promising hope for the future to come.

Vision’s sympathies were real. As real as they could be for the android. “How?”

“A wizard did… I don’t know,” Tony answered. He’s a man of science. Technology. Not magic. Magic was unexplainable and uncooperative. “He took him away.”

He kept seeing Peter falling into a ring of fire, disappearing behind the lights and flames. Gone. His boy was gone.

Tony stepped further into the room, coming up to the sofa to lean against it. A lot was at stake and Tony’s not proud of what happened, but he also knew he could not stop. Not until the future was secured.

And with Peter missing, the future Tony envisioned was at the brink of disappearing altogether.

Vision watched him, his synthetic eyes deciphering every inch of him. “What are you going to do?”

Tony exhaled, deep and purposeful. “I’m going to save the future.”

“Peter was the future,” Vision’s voice was painfully quiet.

“I know.”

Tony had big plans for the boy. Great plans. Important plans. None of those plans came to fruition. The damn wizard made sure of it. Strange should have minded his own business, should have _seen_ the future Tony wanted to create. But the foolish wizard intervened and vanished Peter to somewhere or nowhere.

Strange took Peter away from him. Twice.

Which meant Strange stole Peter’s destiny from him twice.

Tony released a heavy sigh. “Nothing has gone to plan,” he said, drawing a hand down over his face. “I need a day when there aren’t twenty crises to deal with, but… I don’t see that coming any time soon.”

He stared at the gauntlet, the jewels all shimmering with extraordinary, promising powers. “Unless I do something,” he said. “I’m an Avenger. One of the founding members. I have a duty to safeguard this planet. Whatever it takes, right?”

Vision said nothing. Neither validating nor contradicting his statement. Only quiet contemplation.

Tony hated silence. “I’m doing what I have to,” he said, nearly choking on his words. “It’s the only way.”

They fell back to silence. They both knew where they were heading, and both hated the idea of stepping in that direction.

“It’s the only way I know how,” Tony admitted. “With Peter missing… I—I don’t know what the future holds anymore. I just… I only ever wanted peace.”

Vision moved. He stepped to the window, looking out to the world. “I said before, ‘Our very strength incites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict breeds catastrophe.’ It still holds true and if there is a way…”

The android turned from the window, walking up to where Tony stood. “I am the Vision of the Avengers,” he said after a reflective moment. “I helped save this planet thirty-seven times since my birth. Each day, each breath, each beat of their hearts… all because of our actions to save the world.”

Vision took a knee, right in front of Tony, shocking the mechanic to back away from the android. He never had anyone kneel before him and it made him incredibly uncomfortable.

He grabbed Vision’s sweater and tugged the android to get back him back to his feet. “Okay… none of this now. C’mon…”

Vision stayed on his knees, refusing to budge at Tony’s attempt to get him to stand. “Tony Stark. You are my… colleague. A fellow Avenger,” Vision announced. “You are… my oldest friend.”

Tony saw a shine in the android’s eyes. Did androids cry?

He breathed, swallowing, but Vision kept his gaze on Tony. “I do not envy you, Anthony. Earth is at its most difficult time, and with that comes the hardest decisions,” he said. “I know what’s needed. For the greater good, we both know what must happen.”

It felt like a spike nailed right through Tony. Vision and Rhodey were his only teammates left of the Avengers. The only ones who stuck by him in his time of need, and reckoning. They understood the fear and shared it, knowing the world was at a brink of utter chaos if nothing was done. If nothing was set up as a firewall. Tony had his firewall in place, but everyone and everything seemed adamant on tearing it apart, weakening Earth and letting it be vulnerable. 

Vision was his brain child. It pained him to head in the direction he never wanted to go. There was no other way though. Not with titans, celestials, magicians, gods, tricksters, witches and many more out there with powers beyond their capabilities and lust for domination or retribution against their planet. This—the gauntlet and the stones—was their only way to secure Earth’s protection.

Vision took Tony’s metal hand. “Promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“Do not let your mistakes carry onto the next.”

It would have been a cryptic message if it was given to anyone else. Tony, however, knew exactly what Vision meant. After all, they nearly shared the same brain wavelength.

He could promise that. Tony put his other metal hand over Vision’s and squeezed. “I promise,” he said. “It’ll be a clean slate.”

“Then I shall fulfill my purpose,” Vision said, sounding at peace and, oddly, hopeful. “My last gift to Earth and its people.”

Vision moved Tony’s armored hands to his forehead, where the gem glowed and burned. Vision ached underneath the sudden lightening of the stone, but he remained stoic and resolved through it.

Tony had to work quickly. Not time for hesitation or second-guesses. It was their best chance on keeping Earth secured, to keep the future alive. With his nanites working overtime, Tony grabbed the mind stone, his fingers pinching the sides as it glowed brighter. He tugged, using all the armors gadgets to assist in plucking it off Vision.

Vision gasped and cried out, agonized over the pain of the removal. Guilt rotted inside Tony, but he couldn’t stop. Doing so would only cause more harm to Vision and stretch out what was to be inevitable.

_C’mon_! Tony thought as he powered his suit even further. The stone burned brighter and slowly, Tony felt the stone loosen from Vision’s head. The maroon color of Vision’s skin greyed around the stone, cascading down from his head to his body. As the stone loosened more and more, Vision slowly decayed into a grey, lifeless android.

“I’m sorry,” Tony murmured one last time before he gave the final yank.

The stone broke free. Vision collapsed, void of all color and life. Tony held the mind stone in his fingers, looking at the pulsing stone for a brief moment. He dared not look down at the floor. Not at Vision. Or what used to be Vision, he supposed.

Tony turned his back and placed the mind stone in the final resting place. The stone fit, snugged and the gauntlet surged with colors and powers. Tony admired the creation. The powers of the universe… all in his grasp.

He took a deep breath and slid the gauntlet over his arm. His nanites quickly absorbed it and once it did, the powers surged through the armor and straight into Tony and… he screamed.

It was like his whole body was on fire. Blood boiling. Skin roasting. Heart exploding! Tony knew no other pain and yet, it fueled him. Something about the stones made him beyond human, beyond life or death. He was nothing and yet everything.

He was almost like a god.

And as a god, he had the power to do what was needed. But there were so many things that needed to be fixed, to be changed and made better. Like getting Steve to change his way of thinking. Or eliminating the armies of aliens that attempt to invade Earth. Or wipe out all terrorists cells in the world. Or to get Secretary Ross off his back. Or to get Nick Fury to undermining his efforts. Stop Captain America from interfering with his future plans. Remove magic entirely. Erase some of the UN’s restrictions. Create a different set of Accords.

As he had said to Vision, there were twenty crises all happening at once. Tony only ever wanted peace. To be free from all the horrors, pain and fighting. No more fighting. No more attacks. No more arguments or scuffles.

All he wanted was peace.

And with that thought, Tony raised the gauntlet up and snapped his fingers.

The stones’ powers exploded and Tony was shot into the dark.

* * *

The sound of repetitive beeps pulled Tony out of limbo, out of his mind as his eyes shuttered to attention. Shadowy figures hoovered over him. Muffled words bombarding him. He went to move his neck, but it strained and all the muscles convulsed, shooting sharp pains that made him suck on his teeth to stop from shouting out.

“Easy.”

Tony blinked. He knew that voice. Knew that voice all the way back from MIT.

“R-Rhodey?”

His voice sounded pathetic. Croaky and old. God—how long was he out? He fluttered his eyes, opening to a cruel, painful light that blinded him for seconds. He scrunched his face in retaliation at the cruelty, slowly peeling back his eyelids until he was comfortable to see out and find his old friend’s face clearly.

Rhodey looked god-awful. Bags underneath his eyes, peppered beard poking out along his jawline and stress lines embedded in his forehead as he sighed with great relief at being able to look at Tony in the eyes.

“Jesus—you’re awake,” his friend fell into his seat, a happy sigh on his face. “How ya feelin’?”

Like he got suckered punch by both Thor and Hulk at the same time. That’s what he wanted to say, but too exhausted to utter. He laid limp in the cot, spacing out a bit as he tried to recall how he got to wherever he currently was.

Tony scanned his surroundings, checking for exit points off the bat. A single door that probably led to the hallway and a large window that gave him a pleasant view of large grassy field and a lake a little further in the distance. The room reeked of disinfection and clinical air. The walls bare and boring. The incessant beeping continued, drawing his attention to the medical equipment set beside him.

He was in the medical wing of the Compound. Something must have happened to him. Something not good if it got Rhodey to look unpolished and him to be utterly weak, unable to move his limbs without a great deal of effort and pain. What happened to him?

Ignoring the stiff muscles stretching out pain, Tony got himself into a sitting position. The IV hooking in his hand tugging and itching. He went to yank it out, but Rhodey stopped him.

“Don’t do that,” Rhodey ordered. “It’s medication. It’s helping you heal.”

Tony didn’t understand. Heal? From what? He didn’t remember what happened. Did the Avengers fight? Was there another attack? Did Steve Rogers and his rogues pop up? God—why did his head hurt?

Rhodey noted his confusion. “We found you on the fifth floor lounge. You and Vision,” he answered, but then he went quiet. Sadness. “Cho managed to stabilize you, but… you were in critical condition for a period of time.”

Critical condition. Tony looked at his arms and hands. Nothing looked awful. Granted, he felt lethargic in his right arm, but nothing else.

Rhodey scooted closer to the cot, looking conflicted and regretful. “Tony… Vision—he, err… Vision died,” he said. “We couldn’t save him.”

Tony scrunched his brows. Vision was dead? No, that was impossible. He was just with him. They were talking about safeguarding Earth. Protecting the future. Vision wasn’t… wasn’t…

Tony blinked. No… Vision wasn’t dead. No. Not… it was wrong. It was a dream. A lie.

Rhodey stood up from his seat, hand on his shoulder and holding him in assurance and support. “Tones—deep breaths,” his friend ordered. “There you go. Good. Now—what happened? Who attacked you and Vision? Do you remember anything at all?”

Tony had to think. His memories were fuzzy. Jumbled pieces that didn’t fit correctly. He looked further back in his memory. He remembered Vision on his knees, asking for a final promise. He remembered a burst of light, streams of different colors before his blood burned fire and his head jammed with agonizing pain that spiraled him into darkness.

_“Promise me one thing.”_

Promise. Tony remembered a promise. He told Vision he would not let his mistakes carry on. Tony promised him the future they both wanted. The one where they both saw—

_Peter!_

His name burst through to the forefront of his mind. He remembered Peter laying helpless on the ground as a giant troll tried to crush him. He remembered Peter falling from the sky, from outer space. He remembered Peter standing next to him on a dusty, dead planet. Peter, wearing the suit he created especially for him, smiling and hugging him, cheering, _“We won, Mr. Stark. We won_!”

“—we found a glove of some sort,” Rhodes continued overhead. “A gauntlet with jewels or… I don’t know. It was next to you. Do you know anything about it—”

“P-P-Pe-Peter?”

Dear lord! His voice sounded pathetic.

Rhodey face instantly fell, as did Tony’s heart. “Peter’s not here, Tones.”

No. That was impossible. Peter was with him! He was right… Peter _hugged_ him. Smiled and whooped with glee about winning. Peter was wearing his spider suit. The _Iron Spider_ suit.

His friend was lying. Peter wasn’t missing! Tony saw him! He held Peter, sheltered him from flying debris. Stabbed a fucking titan for the kid! Peter wasn’t… he wasn’t…

Tony unplugged himself from the machines. They all went haywire and Rhodey’s eyes bulged in fear as Tony, with all the strength he had in him, swung his legs over the side to get up.

“Tony! Don’t! Get back into—”

He shoved Rhodey aside. “Where is he?”

Rhodey looked lost. “He’s not here!” he reiterated again. “Tones—please! Get back into the bed—”

He ignored his friend, shouting up to the ceiling. “FRIDAY?” he hacked. “L-Locate… item 17A!”

_“Item 17A is not found, Boss_.”

Impossible. That was… impossible! Peter wore the suit. He had it on him. Tony remembered Peter wearing the suit he created for him. It kept him safe! It kept him from dying in space!

“T-Try… _again!_ ”

“Tones…” Rhodey begged, but Tony got up on his feet, knees wobbling as he shifted a few steps away from the cot. “You need to calm down!”

_“Boss? Item 17A is not found._ ”

“That’s not possible!” Tony hissed.

_“I scanned the entire planet twice. Item 17A is currently out of range or destroyed_.”

Tony thought he was having a heart attack. It tightened, squeezed to the point it nearly stopped as Tony’s body went completely numbed. Even his mind stopped working.

Destroyed? No… no… no…

“Tony! Tony!” Rhodey’s voice rang aloud, all around him. “Man—”

Peter couldn’t be dead. The suit itself was almost near indestructible. It would have protected Peter. That was the purpose of it. Protect Peter at all cost. How could it… no… no… no…

Strong grips on both of his arms brought him back to the present. He was suddenly forced back down on the cot, his friend leaning over and putting pressure to keep Tony down. Two other people entered, one with a needle and she was wiping his arm to find a good vein.

Tony’s eyes widened to Rhodey. “Peter… I gotta find Peter,” he said to Rhodey, begging for the man to understand him. “He’s in danger. We need to find him.”

“I know. I know and we will,” Rhodey promised, but it didn’t feel like a promise. It felt like a lie. “The world is in chaos at the moment, but you have to get better first. Okay? You have to heal first.”

The needle made its prick and Tony winced as the woman injected him with whatever to settle him down. Tony didn’t want to settle though. He wanted to get off the bed, back into his Iron suit and go look for Peter. The boy was in danger! He needed to find him. Didn’t anyone know that? Didn’t anyone care?

The drug worked quickly. He felt himself slowly relax and Rhodey’s hold on him loosened. His head sunk further into the pillow, but he eyes remained on Rhodey, pleading with the man to not let him go back into that darkness.

“It’s going to be okay,” Rhodey assured him. “You can rest now.”

Tony’s eyelids went heavy, closing like curtains on a show. There was so much unfinished work that needed to be done. Tony didn’t want to go. This wasn’t what he wanted.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.


	6. I Lost a Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned Leeds reflects on the loss of Peter Parker

Ned Leeds would describe his life as inconsequential.

He woke up in an apartment with his parents and siblings. Ate cereal for breakfast. Went to school. Attended Decathlon practice. Came home. Finished homework. Ate whatever his parents cooked. Watched televisions shows. Played video games. Chatted on social media. Went to bed. Repeat.

Bland even by New York standards.

But in his insignificant sixteen years of life, he did experience a blip.

His best friend was Spider-Man!

Suddenly, his meager teenage life became exciting! His geeky mind and fascination drooled over the fact that his friend was a superhero. A _freaking superhero!_ He couldn’t stop asking questions or requesting his friend to do all the neat tricks Spider-Man did in the videos. It was the most amazing thing! The coolest thing that has ever happened to him!

And as his friend’s best friend, Ned knew it was his obligation to always have his back. Be his ‘guy in the chair’. An honor Ned willing took up, despite his friend saying it wasn’t a thing. Nonetheless, Ned and his friend whispered about the patrols, the robbers, and if he was or wasn’t an Avenger. Ned assumed because he had powers, he got a membership of the exclusive club.

His friend stated otherwise. “Not a club, Ned, and no. Not an Avenger either. Kind of have to be saving the world to be an Avenger.”

Ned didn’t care. Avenger or not, it was the greatest moment that has ever happened to him!

And he couldn’t tell a soul.

That was the hard part. Keeping that secret all bottled up inside him, unable to reveal it to everyone, it was excruciating. Especially day after day after day of being tormented by Flash, ignored by their peers and snickered at for their geeky interests. Ned tried to convince his friend to think of it as a blessing. If they told people, their lives would be awesome! Everyone would want them to come over to their house. Hang-out with them. They would get to be the “cool” kids.

His friend didn’t care for that and enforced Ned to swear to never tell anyone. Especially May.

“She’ll freak out,” his friend claimed, “and when she freaks out, I freak out.”

Ned swore to never tell, much to his disappointment.

He upheld his oath, never betraying his friend’s secret identity and constantly covering his tracks. Ned was quite proud of that. Fooling everyone and getting people to look in the other direction when his friend had to go. Except for Michelle Jones was a bit harder to convince. She asked a lot of questions, but he managed to subside her curiosity.

It was great being the “Guy in the Chair”. It was the coolest thing ever to happen to him… until it wasn’t.

The blip ended.

His best friend was dead.

* * *

Peter Parker was found a day later after reported missing. Multiple stab wounds. Dumped behind a garbage bin. Case unsolved.

Spider-Man also disappeared, leaving Queens’s residents confused and worried about their friendly, neighborhood hero. Theories popped up in regards to what happened to the vigilante hero. Spider-Man constantly made the blogs, newspapers and tabloids. Spider-Man lived on through the rumor mills and sorrows of fans.

Peter Parker did not.

His obituary was short. Much like his life. His name was buried under all the Spider-Man publicity. Buried even deeper under the serious news about the Accords. And Peter’s own life and body was buried under a small plot in Greenwood Cemetery with his beloved uncle.

Ned remembered the funeral. It was small. Ned thought it would be bigger. He didn’t know why he thought that. Peter didn’t know that many people. He was only a teenager. Fifteen. How many people do you know at fifteen? Most showed up for May Parker, who could barely stand and struggled to breathe through choking gasps of sobs. Ned was quiet. He listened to the pastor speak, listened to a good friend of May’s speak about Peter. He listened to his own mother speak about Peter. About how a good boy he was. How quiet he was. How kind he was. How smart he was. How he was going to be someone incredible if he only lived a little longer.

That’s the thing though. He didn’t. Peter was dead and no one knew why.

Cops believed it was a drug deal gone wrong. They hypothesized that Peter got into bad business with a drug lord, but Ned knew that wasn’t true. It was all bullshit! Peter didn’t do drugs! He wasn’t that type of kid. That’s what he told the cops.

When the cops interrogated him about what he knew, Ned froze up. He couldn’t tell them the truth. He couldn’t reveal the one secret his friend swore him to never tell. And even though Peter died and Ned no longer needed to uphold the oath, he still felt obligated—no, more than obligated!—to keep it. Take it with him to his own grave. Like Peter did.

Ned knew Peter’s death was linked to Spider-Man. Whatever Peter was doing, it cost his life. Ned didn’t know how, seeing as Peter had some weird sixth sense thing going. He should have seen the person coming at him with a knife. Why didn’t Peter stop him? Why didn’t he defend himself? It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense!

At the cemetery plot, as they lowered the kid-sized coffin down into the dirt, his father squeezed his shoulder. A pressure to keep him anchored and not tipping over. Ned was one of the few kids to attend. Others included a few of the Decathlon members like Betty Bryant, Abraham Brown, Cindy Moon and Michelle. A couple of teachers too like Mr. Harrington. Even Principal Jim Morita showed up.

Yet, Ned still felt like the only kid who lost. After all, Peter Parker was his best and only friend he had in the world.

And he’s dead. Gone. Buried. Become forgotten over time by everyone. Another tragic teenage death in Queens. Drugs. Violence. All of it be shoved onto Peter’s name. Descriptions that didn’t fit Peter at all. He died because of Spider-Man.

Spider-Man killed his best friend.

As Ned turned away from the grave, walking down the concrete path to the road where the cars parked, he spotted a black, tinted vehicle. It was off to the side, not near the rest of the attending vehicles. It was further down, parked, with two men leaning up against it. They wore dark sunglasses, eyes hidden, but Ned knew they were watching. Watching the black parade go down the path and back to the cars. Back to their daily lives.

Ned bunched his eyebrows, studying them with perplexity as to why they were there. Who were they? What are they doing? Was it associated with Peter? With Spider-Man?

Ned shivered and his mother took that as him being cold. Fall weather was so unpredictable, she claimed. She bundled him up in her scarf and hurried him into their car to go to the small wake afterwards. Ned didn’t want to go, but he had no choice.

As he buckled in and his father drove down the road to get out of the cemetery, they passed the two onlookers. Ned tried his best to not stare, keeping his eyes to the corners to see what they would do. The two individuals did nothing. They didn’t get back into their car. They didn’t follow them out. They stayed in the cemetery.

It was weird.

At May’s apartment, where mourners gathered after the service to talk and nibble, Ned ventured his way to Peter’s bedroom. The living room was too stuffy. Too many adults. Too many sad faces. Too many crackers. Too many little slices of salami. Too many whispers and gossip. Too many shoulder pats. Too many apologies.

Too much of everything.

He retreated down the hall, everything quieter, until he reached the familiar door. He almost knocked, then remembered, and turned the knob to enter.

He should have knocked first.

His heart leapt into his mouth when he saw another person sitting in Peter’s chair. A whirlwind flash nearly spun him in dizzy circles. In that briefest of seconds, Ned thought it was Peter. That Peter wasn’t dead. It was all a horrible nightmare.

But then his brain computed, put the evidence before him into a neat puzzle, and saw Michelle Jones.

Michelle merely lifted her eyes at him. No shock. No confusion. No anger. She looked at him and said, “Hey.”

Ned didn’t know what to say back. So, he also said, “Hey.”

“You needed a break too?”

How did she know? And why does she know?

“Yeah,” Ned replied, closing the door behind him. He went to the bed and sat down. He darted weird glances to Michelle. While he comprehended she was in the room, it baffled him _why_ she was in Peter’s bedroom. The wake and the funeral, he understood. Most of the decathlon team appeared. But why was she in Peter’s room, chilling in his desk chair?

Were her and Peter seeing each other? Were they friends? Did she know about Spider-man too?

“No.”

Ned jolted, eyes wide on Michelle who looked at him with a knowing expression. “Err… what?”

“Peter and I weren’t dating behind your back,” she said. “Weren’t even friends for that matter.”

“I, um… I wasn’t as—”

“You were thinking it.”

Damn. She’s good.

“Are you some kind of psychic?” Ned asked

Michelle pursed her lips. “Just observant.”

Ned nodded, awkwardly. It didn’t explain what she was doing in Peter’s room. Why she chose to hide here than be with the other kids in the living room. To be among the adults, talking and gossiping, while plastering their faces with remorseful expressions.

“What are you, um, doing here?” Ned questioned, finger twirling into the comforter. “I mean, in his room. What are you doing in his room?”

Michelle scrunched her mouth. “Wanted to get away from all the adults. They were getting repetitive,” she answered, pulling her legs up onto the chair. “I wanted quiet and well…”

She looked around Peter’s room, checking out the Mets pennant, Star Wars memorabilia, and the chess set with Ned’s and Peter’s last game still in motion.

She sighed. “Better to be around things that made Peter happy than around wallowing adults.”

Ned understood, taking in the bedroom again. He spotted the Stephan Hawking collection Peter coveted. The Star Wars X-Wing model propped on display on his bookcase. Photographs in frames, of Peter’s young parents, of Uncle Ben and young Peter standing by May’s car, and of him and Ned at a birthday party for some other kid. And somewhere, in this room, maybe, was Peter’s Spider-man outfit.

“Yeah,” Ned uttered after a moment. “Same.”

Michelle spun the chair around, moving it to be closer to Ned. She didn’t say anything else. Kept quiet, accepting the silence as a gift.

Ned embraced the quietness. If only for a little bit. Too quiet, too still. Almost like time froze, encasing the present moment into a bottle, surrounded by Peter’s belongings. All the Star Wars memorabilia, the chess set, the rows of books and Mets pennant. His small collection of Avengers items his uncle bought him, including the coveted Captain America comic that was made in the Fifties. All the things he enjoyed and loved. Ned took stock of it all, staring at the items Peter used, the homework he left on his desk, where his hand brushed against the paper, writing down his thoughts. The last essences of his life.

In the last hours of his life, Peter sat at the desk, working, before he suited up as Spider-man.

Of course, no one knew that. No one looked at the things Ned saw and knew. Only what the police said and the media wrote.

It bristled Ned. It gnawed at every corner of his brain, and prickled his heart into an erratic beat. His classmates were going to believe it. They already did. Everyone outside did, but not aloud. He could see it in their eyes. Everyone already believed his friend was a druggie (except May). Peter wasn’t! He didn’t die like that. He didn’t die like a thug. He didn’t die—

“He didn’t die from drugs!”

Ned instantly regretted his outburst when he spotted Michelle’s eyebrows furrowed in complexity.

His face flushed with embarrassment. “I mean… what they’re saying… it’s not true,” he reiterated, needing Michelle to believe him, since the cops wouldn’t. “Peter wasn’t involved in drugs or anything—”

“I don’t care.”

Ned zipped his lips.

Michelle turned in her chair, fingers entwining with one another in an uncomfortable fumble. “Not like that,” she whispered, her words too heavy for her normal quick-wit. “I meant that it doesn’t matter how he died. He’s dead. Doesn’t change anything.”

Ned’s fingers twirled tighter into the blanket. “I know. I’m just… mad that they’re blaming it on drugs.”

“It’s not as bad as what others have said.”

“Yeah, I guess… wait. Huh?” Ned popped his head up, horrified. “What do you mean? What have others said?”

A hint of a smile peeked out from her somber expression. “Susan theorized he was a male escort,” she said. “Believed he was killed by a jealous boyfriend.”

It was craziest theory Ned had ever heard that he burst out laughing. “What? That’s… _a male escort_? Peter’s fifteen!”

“And he can barely even speak or look at a girl his own age,” Michelle added, humored as well. “Not a very good male escort.”

“No!”

And that was how Ned and Michelle spent the rest of the wake. Talking to one another. Michelle was a good listener, patient and understanding, not needing explanations for things. She got it. She laughed at some of the stories Ned shared. Stories that didn’t have a point. Stories that made Ned laugh. Stories that made Ned sad. All the stories he could think at the top of his head all came out of his mouth. Almost like a confession.

Or, maybe to relive them. Have Peter alive once more.

Eventually, their parents found them and quickly ushered the two of them out of the room. Michelle’s parents gave her a scolding for sneaking into rooms, while Ned’s parents gave him that same, pitiful expression they’ve been giving him since Peter’s death.

They said their goodbyes to May Parker, apologizing again. May took Ned in her arms. “Don’t be a stranger.”

He said he wouldn’t. But he did.

They returned home. His parents went back to their everyday routine. Like they had simply come home from church. Ned dragged himself up to his bedroom and stayed there. He spent the rest of the day and night, thinking how he was going to survive the rest of high school—the rest of his life—without his best friend beside him.

It made his stomach hurt.

* * *

“They blew up an entire country!”

Seymour O’Reilly was loud again. Always loud during debates in history class. Today’s latest torment was the Accords and its effect on the global economy. What’s the significant impact the UN legislation had on the stock market, global trade and diplomatic ties?

Seymour was front runner in ruling the positives of the Accords. For a boy as small and twiggy as him, he had a good pair of lungs.

“The Avengers and other fugs—”

“Seymour!” Mr. Julius Dell admonished, his neck protruding as he gave a short shake of his head in Seymour’s direction. “That’s not the language we use in this school.”

“Sorry,” Seymour said, not apologetic at all. Ned wasn’t surprised. Seymour’s grandfather was an ambassador to Sokovia back in the early 1970s. His whole family supported the Accords. “The Accords is similar to the trade market on Wall Street. Without responsibility and culpability, those people can do whatever they please! Government regulation is necessary to keep the economy stable and to prevent abuse. Therefore, regulation on the Avengers and other _enhanced_ individuals is a good thing, and very much needed.”

“Except that the Government bailed Wall Street out,” Michelle piped up from her position in the back corner of the room. Everyone turned their eyes to her. “Wall Street didn’t take responsibility or culpability for the 2008 housing market crash at all. It was nothing more than a slap on wrist and later, a pat on the back. The only ones affected were the people. Look at the Millennials. Struggling to be adults because they lack trust and have zero support from the system that screwed them over.”

Seymour scoffed at Michelle. “And what? The Avengers’ actions don’t affect people? They haven’t lost the people’s trust?”

“Of course,” Michelle said in grudging acquiescence, “but the Sokovia Accords doesn’t really address responsibility or culpability. It’s a transfer of power and the loss of identity.”

There was a hum of confusion vibrating around the classroom.

Mr. Dell cleared his throat. “Explain.”

Michelle, slouched in her seat, tapped her pencil against the edge of her desk. She looked straight ahead for a second, and then, Ned saw her eyes move to the empty desk. The desk that Peter used to occupy.

“Sure,” she said, pushing herself up in her seat. “Let’s say I’m enhanced. I have powers. I have to sign the Accords, correct?”

Receiving confirmation through nods and mumbles, Michelle continued, “It’s not an option. I have to do so. Based off the Accords, I must be documented, trained and forced to do whosever bidding, despite my beliefs and opinions. These are all elements of conscription, if not outright impressment, which is illegal in our country. Not to mention that such refusal to sign or even stepping out of line could lead to internment or imprisonment without the Writ of Habeas Corpus. Again… breaking a lot of Amendments right there.

“But let’s keep going… say that after being trained as a nuclear warhead, I am sent to do whatever the so-called Council tells me to go and do. I am not allowed to question or refuse the order. Do as told, damn my morals and opinions,” Michelle said, as her classmates raised their eyebrows at the concept of her being a ‘nuclear warhead’. “Why should I trust a handful of old, white dudes, who I didn’t personally get to elect, to have control over myself and the rest of these super-powered people? It’s already been established in the last few centuries that corruption is inevitable. This decade alone has already seen coup d’etats in Stark Industries, SHIELD and the US Government.”

Michelle turned in her chair, staring right at Seymour. Her dangerous glare sent Seymour squirming in his seat.

“You ask how the Accords would affect the global economy and that’s the answer right there. The Accords will efficiently and effectively take control of the global economy and welfare. The Council decides who gets to be saved and who doesn’t. The Council gets to decide who needs assistance and who doesn’t.

“And who is this Council?” Michelle questioned aloud, but no one answered. “The UN? It’s not the UN. It’s a ten-person group of which two members may not like the idea of the Avengers going into Colombia to stop a catastrophe because it would hinder their country’s finances or agenda. Or… maybe a senior official on the Council okays sending the Avengers into Saudi Arabia because it wants to control the oil? Or go into another country to force it to be more ‘western’, help eliminate religious groups that do not follow the Christian way? Or maybe they send the Avengers into Ukraine to capture it and return it to Putin, because they want to appease Russia? Or China? Or anyone for that matter.

“My point to all this is that the Accords will definitely affect the global economy because it gives a small group of people immense power to do whatever they please. And it’s okay for them to control global events because it’s the law. They have the power to ensure that certain resources and trade benefits themselves,” Michelle winded down her speech. “Giving away our freedom for a bit of security is no freedom at all—”

“Oh, so… it’s okay for the Avengers to do whatever the hell they want then?” Seymour blasted out, his face blotchy red. “That’s very hypocritical of you, Jones. You don’t think the Avengers don’t have any secretive agendas going on? They most certainly do! All enhanced people do. That’s why we need a group of well-respected and honorable individuals to monitor them. It keeps everything and everyone in balance. Checks and balances!”

Michelle didn’t even flinch or twitch as she stared straight on at Seymour’s exasperated face. “And where are the checks and balances now? The United Nations drafted the Accords in under two hundred pages. That’s not even the size of a legislative bill in our Constitution! Plus, the country’s leaders didn’t even ask for the Avengers input when drafting it. Why? Because they were only thinking of their damn selves! Because they want that control. They want that power. Why ask someone who has the power to have an input? An option to say otherwise? An option to limit those who want to use that power?”

“Tony Stark is negotiating—” Seymour attempted to counter her point, but Michelle was quick to cut him off.

“Oh? Tony Stark? A man, who has a billion-dollar company around the world, is making negotiations? The guy who does business with the government and its military? Shocker!” Michelle mocked surprised, before her expression fell flat and unimpressed. “Of course he is participating in this. He gets a cut from it. The government is giving him grants to support the bill, giving him allowances and resources to do whatever he wants in order to get his approval. It’s about money. It’s about control. It’s about power!”

“Meanwhile, prior to all this mess, the Avengers only ever got involved problems on moral reasons. Hydra. Alien invasion. They never went into another country with intentions to disrupt its government or economy. Only when people needed a hero to save them. They didn’t do it for economic gains. They didn’t do it for country superiority. Didn’t do it for control or power. They did it because it was the right thing to do and no one else could do it. I can’t say the same thing for a bunch of political posers. Especially ones I didn’t get to elect.

“As I said before, corruption is inevitable. We’ve seen people get greedy and abuse powers to get what they want, and how it affects people,” Suddenly, a mischievous glint shimmered in Michelle’s eyes. “Hey, Ned?”

Ned stiffened. “Erm… yeah?”

“Throw that paper at Seymour for me.”

Everyone stared at Michelle like she lost her mind. Seymour’s mouth dropped open at the blasphemy of the idea. Like madness invaded into Michelle’s mind. Mr. Dell cleared his throat. “Now… Miss Jones—”

“Do it, Ned,” Michelle pressured him again. “Do it or I won’t sit with you at lunch anymore.”

Ned was confused, and to be honest, a bit hurt. If she didn’t sit with him, he would be alone at a table. And he hated eating alone. He shot Michelle a pleading look to reconsider, but Michelle nodded her head encouraging him to listen. There was a small smirk on her lips. She knew what she was doing. It was going to be okay. Ned carefully ripped a sheet of paper from his desk and wadded up into a ball. He took aim at Seymour, who was squirming more in seat, sliding everywhere to try to dodge it as he called out for Mr. Dell to do something.

Ned threw it. The wadded ball hit Seymour in the shoulder.

Seymour huffed. “What the hell, Ned?”

Ned shrugged. He honestly didn’t know.

Michelle, however, kept up that smirk. “Do it again, Ned.”

“Now, now, Miss Jones…” Mr. Dell tried to intervene, but Michelle threw her hand up.

“Stop, Mr. Dell,” she ordered, and to the whole classroom’s surprise, Mr. Dell stopped moving. Michelle looked back to Ned. “Throw another wad. You too, Betty.”

Betty fidgeted in her seat too. It was clear she didn’t want to, but she wadded up a piece of paper and, with Ned, threw it at Seymour. She didn’t aim well and missed, but she threw it nonetheless.

Seymour cursed. “What the hell? Mr. Dell!”

But Mr. Dell didn’t do anything. He watched. A growing interest at what he was witnessing. Michelle told Betty and Ned to do it again, and then ordered Abraham to join in as well. Three paper balls were thrown at Seymour. Then Michelle had Isaac take Seymour’s pencils and give them to her.

Seymour protested, trying to pick up one of wads of paper balls to throw back. “Mr. Dell! Mr. Dell—do something!” he threw the wad at Ned, but Ned easily dodged it. “Make her stop!”

Mr. Dell gave him an apologetic shrugged. “I can’t help you.”

“What?”

“It’s not my authority to do so.”

Seymour gaped, incredulous about the treatment. He leaped up in his seat, hands balled in fist at the indignation of his lack of protection. “I’m going to the principal’s office!”

“And say what?” Michelle questioned, nonchalant that it irritated Seymour’s nerves. “It’s you against the rest of the class.”

“They’ll tell the truth!”

“No—they’ll say whatever I want them to say. After all, I’m the leader here. I get to decide what happens in this classroom. Your opinion won’t matter. Your wishes will be ignored. I’ll decide when you can have these,” Michelle raised up Seymour’s pencils. “Probably not for today. Or tomorrow. And if you find more, I’ll just have Isaac take them from you again. Oh, and let’s not forget….

“I’ll decide when my _team_ needs to intervene.”

It clicked right in Ned’s head. He swiveled to Michelle, a wide grin on his face that split it almost into two. “Hey—I just got it!”

The rest of the class finally caught up to what Michelle was doing and what Mr. Dell figured out early on. The ruffle of understanding swept the classroom, ending with Seymour’s eyes bulging in recognition that he fell right into Michelle’s trap.

Michelle leaned forward in her desk. “So, anyway,” she started, elbows propped up as she sketched away in her notebook. “Back to what we were talking about… the Accords will decisively control the global economy and global power. Less than the Avengers ever did. Yes, mistakes were made. Tragedies happened. But, as I said before, giving a little bit of freedom for security is no freedom at all. At least with the Avengers not on government payroll, we knew there was no political or economic underhand at work. Everything they did were for moral reasons. Cannot say the same for politicians and businessmen.”

The bell rang before anyone could add more. Not that anyone else had anything to say. Michelle ended the debate and won. Even Seymour sat at his desk in silence, still flustered. Out of anger or embarrassment, Ned didn’t know.

Everyone quickly filed out of the classroom and Ned hurried to join Michelle. “That was awesome, Michelle.”

Michelle shrugged. “Not really,” she replied. “It’s depressing.”

Ned thought about it. Yeah. It was depressing.

Her shoulders dropped as she released a heavy sigh. “You think Peter would agree?”

“Agree to what?”

“About the Accords? You think he would sign?”

Ned halted. His eyes bulged almost out of their sockets upon her inquiry. Did she know? He wondered as his heart drummed along with his racing thoughts. Michelle was an observant person. Maybe she put the dots together in the last year since Peter got bitten by that spider? Maybe she had a hunch and wanted Ned to trip up? Maybe… maybe she was just asking? Ned couldn’t be sure, so he needed to keep up the lie.

“Why would Peter sign? Only superheroes sign and Peter is no hero. I mean… he’s not a superhero… that’s ridiculous!” he stammered, his eyes blinking as fast as his racing heart. He needed to get better control of this. “He’s not a superhero. He doesn’t have powers… I mean, Peter wouldn’t be able to keep a secret like that if he was and I know he wasn’t. A superhero that is. No. He, was, um, weak you know? He can’t… no way did he have powers or—”

“Wow, Ned, calm down,” Michelle chuckled at his confusing ramblings. “I meant in general. _If he was a superhero_ , would he sign it? Do you think he would agree with me?”

Oh… _oh_! That’s all she wanted to know. His shoulders immediately relaxed. “Oh… I mean, I guess he wouldn’t agree to it. I think he would have sided with you.” He shot her a happy smile, to which she responded with her own rare, quiet smile. “I do too. If I was ever a superhero, I probably wouldn’t sign it. Definitely not after that debate.”

“Thanks, Ned.” Michelle said, continuing on down the hallway. “Well, let’s just hope people can get their heads out of their asses and fix the situation. It’s not going to end well. People always gets hurt and I don’t want another world-threatening incident to happen because of it.”

“You think something bad is going to happen because of the Accords?”

“I don’t know,” Michelle shrugged uncertainly, “but, history says otherwise.”

* * *

Michelle Jones was right.

Disaster struck when Ned and his classmates returned from a field trip to the MOMA. It was scary. He sat alone in his seat on the bus. Michelle behind him. He was minding his own business, not terribly excited about modern art. He was busy with his phone when Michelle started smacking him on the back of his head.

“What?” he asked, turning around to look over his shoulder. “Why are you hitting me?”

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to. He saw it. A big donut-like spaceship hung vertically in the air. It hovered over Manhattan, its presence threatening and inciting excitement for everyone on the bus. All the students rushed to one side, faces pressed against the windows in fright and grotesque curiosity.

The old bus driver chortled. “What’s the matter with you kids? Haven’t you ever seen a spaceship before?”

Yes, when aliens rained down in New York nearly seven years ago. Ned remembered it. He recalled the fear coursing through his every thought and movement. Running blindly from his neighborhood to find sanctuary with his family. He heard screams and explosions and he truly thought he was going to die.

Everyone remembered that day.

And they would remember this day too.

Iron Man zoomed onto the scene, chasing after whatever was beamed up into the spaceship. The videos from the news station were too hard to see what it was. Or _who_ it was. The images blurred enough to resemble only blobs of color.

They returned to Queens. Their parents all in a tight bundle of anxious energy. About the same as their kids. Every parent grabbed their child and raced back home, back to safety, even though the spaceship was gone.

Maybe because Iron Man was gone too. Without Iron Man… oh, Ned didn’t want to think about that.

It wasn’t until later that evening when it happened. Ned didn’t even know it happened when it did happen. He was up in his room, headphones on as he listened to music while finishing up his homework.

He didn’t hear his phone going off. Didn’t hear the tires squealing in desperation or the crushing sound of bent metal. Didn’t hear the nearby terrified screams. He heard nothing of it until his father burst through his door, eyes wide and face covered in sweat.

Ned remembered pulling off his headphones. “Dad? What’s the matter—”

“He’s here!” his father yelled over his shoulder before he raced right to him, enveloping in his large arms and squeezing him. “Oh thank God! You’re still here.”

Ned plucked up his brows as his father’s hug tightened. Did he miss something?

He quickly got caught up when his father brought him down to the living room. His mother burst into tears, taking him in her arms and sobbing with grand relief. Again, he was confused, but quickly figured out when he saw the television screen. There was someone different on the news. A different anchor. Normally it was Christine Everheart, but she wasn’t at the desk. It was someone else. Someone who was not used to being in front of the screen, based on their nervous posture.

His family parked on the couch, listening as the non-anchorwoman spoke about the tragedy. “Currently at this time, we do not know the cause of this epidemic. Authorities believe it is in relations to the alien spaceship that arrived earlier this morning,” she said, stuttering a bit here and there. “Um… leaders around the world are scrambling for answers as we all are—”

His father flipped through channels, all stations repeating the same thing. All of them showed captured videos of the horror. People instantly turned into ash, disappearing into a flutter of flakes as chaos ensued. Nothing could be done. No one could stop it. One by one, people disintegrated into dust. People screamed and cried and begged. It didn’t work. Nothing worked.

And so they all turned to the Avengers for a miracle. Leaders around the world pleaded for the Avengers to come to their aid, to save them from this unknown rapture.

Except, the Avengers didn’t answer.

“The White House is, again, asking for all current _and former_ Avengers to assist in this devastating catastrophe that authorities are calling ‘The Decimation’,” stated a news anchor, reading off the report at her desk. “Officials are saying Tony Stark is currently in critical condition following his return from space. His publicist states that they found Stark unconscious, with severe injuries following his battle with the aliens who arrived in New York. As to how he returned home is still unknown, but we’ll keep you updated.

The news anchor glanced down at the report papers. “Still no word on the Rogue Avengers led by Captain America, but authorities hope the fugitives will be willing to cooperate in order to tackle the devastation.”

The screen switched to the newly replaced Secretary of State, standing in front of a podium as he held the camera’s attention.

“We ask Captain America and his friends to come out of hiding to help reverse this… this… _devastating_ catastrophe,” said the Secretary of State. “The Decimation has taken the world. We ask to put our differences aside so that we can save the world, together.”

The screen returned to the news anchor, shuffling papers together. “That is from our newest Secretary of State, former Senator Pat McQueen,” she said, her fingers shaking as she swept a piece of paper underneath the stack. “Umm… now—leaders of the United Nations are issuing a state of world emergency, calling all leaders to meet—”

The channel switched again, replaying videos that captured the incidents of the Decimation. People turning to dust in a flash, pieces of themselves fluttering out of existence as screams echoed in the empty spaces.

“What’s on God’s great Earth is happening?” Ned’s mother murmured, as the screen changed to show the rising numbers of people who are missing. Dead. Nothing, but ash.

Ned and his family spent the day watching whatever news channel was airing, huddling close together and checking in on family and friends. Brief moments of panic rose in Ned’s chest when they couldn’t get a hold of a few people. Some returned the calls to confirm they were alive. Ned nearly threw up in the sink when he thought his grandparents were dead.

Michelle was alive. As was her family too. She and Ned texted to confirm each other’s status, and Ned was relieved to not lose another friend. His heart couldn’t take another hit like that. Not after losing Peter and the world crumbling to dust. 

School remained closed. Not that it surprised Ned. His parents weren’t planning to send him to school. They weren’t even going into work. The world went upside down again, but this time, there were no heroes coming in to save the day. To stop the madness.

Ned knew he got lucky. Whatever happened—whatever plagued Earth—it didn’t touched his family. Ned was well aware of others’ losses. Including his classmates. Betty Bryant’s mother was a victim of the Decimation. As was Liz Toomes’s father.

Michelle called it “The Death of Heroes” since the tragedy happened and none of the Avengers answered the call for help. Ned didn’t want to believe it, but… where were the Avengers? Wasn’t it their thing to go fix a mess like this? To stop it from even happening? To _avenge_ the fallen?

Maybe Michelle was right. It was all over. No sightings of Captain America and his shield. No bolts of lightning from Thor. No green-raging Hulk either, crushing down the unseen enemy. No red blur of Black Widow in action, or arrows shooting targets out of the sky from Hawkeye. All they had was a press announcement about Iron Man’s hospitalization.

Until then, the world rotted away.

It was the second night since the catastrophe, or the “Decimation” as it was now dubbed. Ned lost his appetite as everything revolved around the devastating news. Everyone constantly being updated of who was missing. Who was gone. Out of the picture. Out of existence.

He grew tired and wanted to retreat. Think about the better days where he remembered to laugh and smile. Talk about nonsense or be blissfully ignorant of the world’s troubles. He missed those days of innocence. Hell—everyone probably did.

Ned’s parents fell asleep an hour earlier. They both squeezed him tight, and held a little longer before they went to bed. His mother even whispered, “I love you, Edward. More than anything.”

He knew that already. And she knew he loved her too, but he returned the affection. Everyone needed to hear it. To know… just in case the plague returns to take more.

He turned out the lights and double-checked the doors before heading to his bedroom. All he wanted to do was sleep. Fall asleep and wake up from what he hoped to be only a nightmare. Little did he anticipate another shock to his already topsy-turvy world when he opened his bedroom door.

Barely a foot over the threshold, a strange, metallic hand clasped over his mouth.

Ned freaked!

He screamed, but the hand muffled his squeals. His heart raged like a thunderstorm. Blood rushed through him as he tried to suck in air, begging to breathe. Begging to not be killed. Tears welled in his eyes, pooling in the corners as he quickly flashed to that brief moment downstairs where his parents hugged him tight, hearing his mother’s love again in his ear.

Oh God… this was it for him. This was his end!

He heard movement behind him. The door closed. The latch clicked into place, followed by the sound of a heavy clunk of the lock. He was sealed in with the intruder, trapped and at its mercy. Ned shuddered and blinked to clear away the tears.

Air tickled the back of his ear. “It’s okay. You’re okay,” the voice whispered. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Bullshit! Ned thought. All bad guys say that right before they pull the trigger.

The person kept a tight hold over his mouth. “I’m going to let you go now. Just don’t freak out, okay?” he said, but Ned was far past that. He was certain he already peed a little in his underwear. “Don’t scream.”

The hand unclasped and lifted. Ned bolted to the other side of his room, scrambling for the first object in his reach. It was his stupid math book, but it was heavy enough to do some damage if Ned chucked it hard enough.

He spun around, book raised like a spear, and his world got flipped all over again.

What the…

“P-Peter?”

Peter Parker stood in front of his bedroom door. Standing. Looking. Breathing.

Ned shook his head. He had to be seeing things. His exhaustion got to him. The emotional distress of everything invaded his mind and was bullying him with a visage of his dead friend.

He blinked, expecting Peter to disappear and be replaced.

Except… Peter stayed.

Impossible! It couldn’t be. Peter’s dead. _Dead_! He went to his funeral! He wept! He… no. No, no, no, no…

The person who looked like Peter took a tentative step closer to him. “It’s me, Ned,” he implored, pleading for belief. “Please don’t frea—”

His words were cut off by the math book Ned chucked at him. It hit him square in the forehead. The stranger’s head jerked back, face scrunched in a grimace as a metal-covered hand came up to his face.

“Ow…” the stranger muttered. “That hurt.”

Ned grabbed another object. His physics book. “Who are you!?” he demanded. “W-What do you want?”

It was hard to look at... _it_. He had Peter’s exact same eyes. Same small scar on the chin. Same messy hair. Copied Peter’s appearance cell-by-cell.

Fake-Peter still winced from the blow to his forehead. “It’s me, Ned,” he repeated again. “Peter! You know… your best friend since elementary school.”

“Nice try! My friend is dead,” Ned fired back, his hand shaking under the weight of the physics book and fear itself. “You’re one of those aliens, aren’t you? The one that came from the spaceship! Killing us left and right!”

“What?” Fake-Peter said, perplexed. “That’s… Ned! C’mon—”

Ned raised the textbook higher to show he meant business. Fake-Peter stopped, hands raised in merciful surrender.

“Okay… okay. Umm… you need proof?” Fake-Peter relented, his voice calm as he scrunched his face in concentration. “Okay… okay… we, err, met in the second grade! You were swinging and I was standing alone and awkward and you let me swing with you.”

Ned’s grip on the textbook slipped a bit. His arm flinched at the tidbit. He recalled seeing a bespectacled boy standing off to the side, alone, before he offered him to join. The innocent introduction of two kids on an overrun playground.

_“You can join me if you want! I’m Ned.”_

_The bespectacled boy shuffled forward to where Ned sat on his swing, the links clicking together. The boy pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “Peter,” he returned. “Peter Parker.”_

Fake-Peter kept going. “A-And… and, you, um… have burn scars on the back of your neck from a sparkler on the fourth of July four years ago.”

Ned recalled spending the Fourth of July on Peter’s block. His uncle gave them sparklers and Ned made a stupid mistake to try to scratch an itch on his back while holding a sparkler. His neck prickled at recalling the searing pain followed by the shrilled scream he let out before Uncle Ben and Aunt May came to his rescue. Peter held his hand the whole way to the emergency room and still held his hand when the doctor checked it.

_“You can squeeze it if it hurts real bad,” Peter said. “I won’t tug away.”_

Peter didn’t. Not even Ned was certain he sprained a few of those bony fingers when he clutched onto his friend’s hand to help him bare the pain.

“—and when we broke your mom’s new china bowl, we blamed it on the washer,” Fake-Peter rattled on. “And you didn’t get mugged like you told your parents! You used the twenty to buy a Lego set that you made me keep at my bedroom for months so your parents wouldn’t find out.”

Throughout the ramblings, Ned slowly lowered the physics book, his eyes enlarged as took in the confessions. The secrets only Ned and Peter knew. He blinked. Blinked again. Peter didn’t fade away. He remained standing, blabbering away.

“…dropped the Lego Death Star when you found out I was Spider-Man! You were sitting on my bed and I was on the ceiling and you asked to be my guy in the chair and… and…”

Peter paused, breath logged in his throat as he pleadingly stared at Ned with wide, desperate eyes.

“You’re my best friend, Ned!” Peter wiped a tear from his eye. “And I… I-I really need my best friend right now.”

Ned hesitated. He wanted to believe him. Believe in everything he said. Believe in every confession was all true. But Ned needed to make sure. He’d seen films where aliens can impersonate humans. And Ned knew his best friend was dead. He saw his body in the casket. Saw Peter’s pale complexion, eyes closed and lips sealed by death’s kiss.

There was only one final test left. Ned inched forward, drawing a strange look from Fake-Peter, but Ned inched a little closer until he stretched his hand out. Almost as if offering a handshake.

But the _real_ Peter would know it wasn’t a simple handshake.

Fake-Peter’s eyes widened, studying the gesture before he returned his gaze to Ned. Challenge accepted. His hand reached to meet Ned’s hand, and the second they touched, it started.

In a quick rhythm, they performed their secret handshake. Neither one of them missing a beat. No mess ups. No hesitation. It went smoothly. Perfectly. And in the end, they fired off their guns at one another, confirming their friendship.

Ned sucked in a sharp breath. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

Seconds pass, his brain struggled to comprehend that it wasn’t fake. That the person before him wasn’t an alien impostor. Or a hallucination from one of the pictures he kept on his bookshelves. He was real. Peter was really standing in front of him. Back from the dead and everything.

His best friend was alive!

“Oh God… _Peter_!”

The textbook slipped out of his hand, landing with a loud clank to the floor. Ned forgot it. He can’t even remember how the distance closed between them. They simply engulfed each other’s arms, squeezing each other in assurance that the other was real and not a ghostly mirage.

Tears dribbled down Ned’s buckled face, in complete disbelief that Peter was in the same room with him again. After so many months of being separated by death, it was amazing that they were together again. A miracle! Another chance to make new memories and Ned swore he would never waste his time with Peter again.

Ned squeezed his friend tight. “I needed you too.”

It was welcoming to hear Peter snivel. Not that he was happy Peter was crying. Only comforting to know he wasn’t alone in having such an emotional reaction. They stayed in that embrace a long moment until Ned’s nostrils burned at a pungent smell that screwed his senses.

They broke away and Ned wiped tears away from his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re alive,” he blubbered through a jubilant grin. “I mean, I can _now_ , b-but… have you been alive this whole time? Where have you been? Why didn’t you text me? A-And… what are you wearing? Is that a costume?”

A long, depleted sigh followed as Peter tugged at the sleeves. “It’s a long story, Ned.”

“Does it have to do with the whole alien thing that happened?”

Peter barely shook his head. His friend looked different. Beside the red, irritated eyes, there were scratches, dirt and bruises marking up his face. Even his eyes that once resembled warm embers turned to ash of nothingness. Emptiness was all he saw in his friend’s eyes. A sense of haunted brokenness imbued within him. The last time he saw Peter in such state was the loss of Ben Parker.

“Hey… hey,” Ned grabbed his chair, dragging it out from his desk. “Here, sit down.”

He assisted Peter to the chair. His friend dropped into the seat and a bit of dust whipped up into the air from his hair. Peter tilted, hand rubbing his neck where Ned spotted a ringed contusion. Like someone tried to choke him.

Ned sat on the bed, concerned. “Peter? Are you okay?” he fretted. “What can I do? Do you need anything? Water? Food?”

It took a moment for Peter to register Ned’s questions. Tears streaked down his dirty face, the redness of his eyes reminding Ned of blood. His friend hiccupped, trying to speak, but his words were spoken like a ghost before he managed to breathe.

“May’s dead.”

Ned stilled. “What?”

Peter was shaking, like there was a constant draft that tickled him. He unfurled his arms and stared down at his trembling hands. Ned took a closer look, studying the shimmer of the metallic material covering his friend neck to toe. Whatever it was, it lost most of its shine from the streaks of dirt. Almost like ash—

An intense cold penetrated him. It sunk deeper than his skin, straight to his blood and bone. His mind turned back to the news, the repetitive videos of people evaporating from existence in a flurry of ashes.

“Oh my god,” Ned whispered, horrified. “M-May? Did she… Is she really?”

Peter gave a quiet, stiff nod.

A miraculous night turned back to another horror.

“Oh man… oh man,” Ned uttered, his brain faulting from the sheer shock of realizing the dust covering Peter was once May Parker. Tears brimmed in his eyes. “Oh God, Peter. I’m so sorry.”

What else was there to say? Ned wished he could do more. Say more! But nothing was good enough. Ned was sixteen years old and while intelligent, was not fully able to comprehend the concept of death. Or even how to handle it. When he thought Peter died, he barely functioned or communicated. With Peter alive and now May dead, Ned knew even less. Because at sixteen, what did he know about life and death. And what could he do about it? Nothing could make May reform from the ashes on Peter’s arms. 

Peter breathed loud and hard. “I couldn’t… I-I didn’t save her. I c-could have. I could have saved her, but… but…,” he trailed off, his breathing haggard. No tears fell, but the pain was there in his face. The look of guilt chipped away at the youthful face. “It’s my fault. I did this. I did all this.”

“What are you talking about?” Ned looked on, puzzled and concerned. “The aliens did this. Not you. If Iron Man couldn’t stop it, then... well, then there’s nothing you could have done either.”

Peter shook his head. “No—no! You don’t understand! You don’t… you weren’t there! You… I didn’t… I-I didn’t _do enough_! I-I… I messed up.”

Ned knew how self-deprecating and dispirited Peter could be when bad things occurred. Peter blamed it on the so-called “Parker Luck.” Ned didn’t believe in the curse, but it was difficult to convince Peter otherwise. Especially when Peter experienced more heartaches than anyone Ned ever knew.

Tragedies always befell on the Parkers.

Ned shifted his weight from one foot to the next, his feet cramping from standing for so long. He checked the time. It was almost two in the morning. Fatigue started to weigh on his eyes and mind.

“Look—stay here tonight. You can sleep on the pull-out,” Ned suggested for his burdened, grieving friend. “Mom and Dad won’t mind. Hell—they’ll be happy to see that you’re alive! Then, tomorrow, we’ll figure out what’s going on and what we need to do or… or whatever. I’m not entirely sure what any of us need to do. But Mom and Dad will let you stay here permanently—”

“I can’t stay.”

“Of course you can,” Ned brushed off Peter’s refusal. “We have room, and my parents won’t care. You’re like a second son—”

“No—you’re not listening to me! I can’t stay here,” Peter agitatedly reiterated. “Hell! I think I even made a mistake coming here.”

Peter leapt out of the chair, pacing. He acted anxious all over again. His hand jumped to his unruly hair, fingers twisting the strands tight as he muttered, “This will be the first place he’ll look.”

“Who?” Ned wondered who would be looking for a dead kid.

“Tony Stark.”

Ned reeled. Tony Stark? Iron Man? Why would Iron Man come looking for Peter? And why would Peter be terrified of Iron Man? Tony Stark was his hero, as well as Ned’s. They used to dream of working at Stark Industries, creating new designs that would impress Tony Stark. They even dreamed of working alongside him as Iron Man. Peter as Spider-man, and Ned as Spider-man’s Guy in the Chair.

It didn’t make sense that Peter’s lips quivered when he spoke Stark’s name. That his eyes fidgeted to the window, toward the Stark Tower that lit up the night sky.

Ned glanced from the Tower to Peter. “Tony Stark?” he repeated, quizzically. “What does he have to do with you?”

Peter stopped his pacing. He breathed.

“Everything.”

Ned remained muddled, surged with perplexity by Peter’s response and behavior. Tony Stark? Iron Man? Clearly something happened. Something beyond Ned’s comprehension at the moment. Was the great Tony Stark truly be behind the elusive mystery surrounding Peter’s disappearance? It sounded ludicrous.

What would Stark want with a boy from Queens?

“Peter?” Ned tentatively approached his friend, uncertain if he should even ask. But, curiosity and concern egged him on. He needed to know the full story. He needed to know what happened since he disappeared. “Peter? What happened to you? How do you know Tony Stark?”

Peter said nothing. His head hung over his neck, gaze drawn to the floor.

“Dude, just… talk to me, please?” Ned took his friend’s shoulder to get him to look up. “What happened?”

Peter stayed quiet for a little longer. Then, he let out a shaky breath.

“A year ago, I was kidnapped… by Tony Stark.”

* * *

Ned stared out his bedroom window, spying the city’s twinkling and dimming lights in the distance. And there, far away, but prominent, was Stark Tower. Still a beacon of hope. Rising up from the ashes of New York. Warning all those to not mess with them. Do not mess with Iron Man.

Took on a whole, new meaning now.

Ned swallowed the large lump building in his throat. “So, Iron Man… h-he did all this?” he croaked out as he peeked over his shoulder to Peter. “A-Are you sure?”

Peter shot him a look, which Ned quickly raised up his hands. “Sorry! Sorry,” he apologized. “It’s just… unbelievable! I mean… _Iron Man_? The hero who saved New York? I… Jesus!”

Peter looked away. “He’s not what you think.”

“I’m starting to see that.”

Iron Man. Tony Stark. The _bad guy_? It was practically unheard of. Incomprehensible! He was an Avenger. Earth’s greatest defender. It didn’t make sense for him to be responsible for the chaos outside their home. He swooped in to stop the aliens. Chased them right out of New York and back into space! He even returned home, on his deathbed, from fighting the aliens to protect Earth. He wasn’t any of the things Peter told him: a kidnapper, liar and mass murderer.

And yet, Peter wouldn’t lie to him. Not about his disappearance. Definitely not about May’s death. 

Ned yanked his curtain across the window to block the view of Stark Tower for good. He didn’t care to ever see that building again. He returned to the bed while Peter continued to fiddle with his suit.

“Okay, what’s the plan?” Ned adjusted himself on the mattress’s edge. “What’s going to happen next?”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a plan to undo this, right?” Ned inquired Peter struggled to pull his suit away from his wrist. “I mean… to bring everyone back?”

“There is no plan.”

For a moment, Ned was speechless. “N-No plan? What do you mean? Is there no way to undo what Stark did?”

Peter paused. Something flickered across his eyes before he shrugged.

Again, Ned was frankly astonished by the response. “B-But… But we have to do something!” he said. “Maybe… if we get the glove thing—”

Peter grunted. “Good luck storming _that_ castle. It’s impenetrable.”

“Well… we gotta do something! He kidnapped you! Held you against your will!” Ned decried, not understanding why Peter acted apathetic to his own abuse. “Let’s call the police! Or, you know, like maybe the FBI or… or the CIA!”

Peter inhaled deep before shaking his head. “Won’t do any good,” he said, despondent. “Whoever you report to will get back to SHIELD. And SHIELD is run by Mr. Stark. We say anything to anyone, agents will storm this house before sunset tomorrow.” Peter raised his head up, gaze on Ned. “I’ll be locked away again and you… you and your family would get in lot of trouble. So, no. We can’t go to the police or anyone.”

Ned frowned. A protest waited on his lips, but after a quick consideration, he knew Peter was right. If Stark controlled the government, then it wasn’t a safe to go to any legit authorities. It had to be to someone outside such jurisdiction. Someone outside the law. Someone not owned or controlled by the government. Didn’t have to respond or obey their commands.

An idea popped in Ned’s mind.

“Captain America!” Ned excitedly suggested. If anyone could help them, it would be Stark’s former teammates. Captain America would believe them and help fix the world. “What about him and his rogue team?” Maybe if we find—”

“Captain America is dead.”

Ice trickled down right to his gut, piercing it straight and true. “H-He’s dead?”

Peter nodded, looking on morosely. Eyes heavy and lips thinning as he pursed them together in a tight, small grimace at a memory. “Cap, Black Widow, Hawkeye… all dead,” he answered in a small, cracked voice. “I watched it happen. Cap was the first to go. Then Black Widow... and everyone else pretty much followed after that.”

No more Captain America? America’s golden boy. It’s prodigal son. Killed. Diminished to nothing like so many others. The man who saved the world—gone. The man who strove to keep freedom alive and protect it at all cost was dead. The loss burned a hole with Ned as he realized the significance of the loss of Captain America and the others. The Avengers were gone. The world’s heroes. The ones they relied to save them, be their first lines of defense against the unexplained and dangerous creatures of the universe, were nothing more than wisps of ash.

Listening to Peter was all too much for Ned to bear. He wanted nothing more to crawl into his bed, throw the covers over his head, and pretend the horrors of the world outside do not exist. With no Captain America, with no help from law enforcement or the government, they were out of options. Alone in their pursuit for justice.

“Then what are we going to do?” Ned asked, scared that it was up to them now.

“I told you,” Peter said. “We do nothing. It’s over.”

Ned shook his head. He couldn’t believe it to be over. It couldn’t be over. The world couldn’t end this way.

“There’s gotta be something we can do,” Ned insisted, racking his brain for another idea. “I mean… you’re Spider-man! People here in Queens still talk about you. They trust you. If you go on air and tell everyone what Tony Stark did—”

Peter let out a derisively snort. “Spider-man,” he muttered, humorless in his chuckles. “Spider-man died with the rest of the Avengers. _With May_.”

Ned’s eyes immediately fell down to Peter’s suit, where Peter sported a massive, black spider logo in the center of a red, blue and black super-suit. The symbol of Spider-man.

“He doesn’t have to be,” Ned answered in a whisper. Spider-man could come back from the dead just like Peter Parker. Take up the mantle the departed Avengers left behind. “The world still needs heroes. Now more than ever. You can lead a rebellion like Luke Skywalker did!”

Peter screwed his face. “No! I’m done. I’m tired and… I’m done with it. All of it,” he asserted, grabbing the edge of his suit again and yanked hard. The material still didn’t budge. “Spider-man is dead.”

“So—that’s it? You’re quitting Spider-man?”

“Yep,” Peter didn’t even look up. He continued to jerk on the sleeves of his suit. “It’s over for me.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“But, Spider-man was the best thing that has ever happened to you! You can’t quit!”

“No, it wasn’t,” Peter answered, his words terse, “and yes, I can.”

“But, what about helping the little guys? Saving the world?” Ned pressed on, incredulous that Peter would quit being a superhero. “What about becoming one of the Avengers?”

“I don’t want that anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because!”

“But the world needs you!”

“No, they don’t!”

“But—”

Peter’s hand slammed on the desk, launching out of his seat. His voice burst out of his vocal chords and carried around the room.

“ _He won_!”

Face flushed and taut, Peter’s limbs moved in violent, chaotic strokes as he strode right into Ned’s space. Ned scrambled away, ramming his back into the wall and pulling his knees to his chest. Peter stood in front of him, blazing.

“He won, Ned!” Peter hissed, dark eyes burning with tears. The emotional storm churned and Ned did his best to anchor himself from it. “Don’t you get that? _He won!_ There’s absolutely _nothing_ we can do. I—we—fought… and lost.

“There’re no more Avengers. No more Spider-man,” Peter pivoted away from Ned, creating a berth between them. “It’s over. All the heroes are dead and Stark controls the world. It’s over.”

And as quickly as that rage came, it exhausted out. Peter slackened, his movements languid after he depleted every ounce of his frustration. He seated himself back on the chair. A moment to breathe and compose. In Peter’s eyes, Ned saw a shine of sadness and fear.

Ned stayed in his safety position for a solid minute, before he unfolded himself and scooted off the bed. He gave himself another minute to settle his nerves. It was strange and terrifying to be on the other end of Peter’s anger. Not that it was directed at him, Ned knew that, but it was quite a fright.

He waited a little longer before he took tentative steps toward Peter. His friend stared at his hands, unseeing and lost. When Ned reached him, sounds of heavy, broken sobs could be heard from a broken boy. Peter rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. He kept shaking his head, back and forth, and croaked, “Sorry Ned,” he blubbered in remorse. “I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just… I’m tired and I-I lost so much and I can’t… I can’t...”

Peter struggled to breathe through the invading grief, “I can’t keep fighting and losing,” he said. “You’re all I have left. Everyone else is gone and… I can’t! Okay? I can’t get you hurt. I can’t lose you too.”

And Ned finally understood. Peter’s fear. The Parker curse. Everyone he loved taken away, and Ned was Peter’s last friendship. His last source of familiarity and comfort in this new world. His only source with May Parker gone.

Ned took Peter’s hand, squeezing it tight, assuring. “You don’t have to worry about me,” he swore to his friend. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Peter attempted to dispute, but Ned held firm in his declaration.

“I’m not leaving you, okay? I’m your Guy in the Chair,” Ned proclaimed, staking his position by Peter’s side. “Whatever you decide to do, I’ll support you. Either as Spider-man or Peter.”

Peter blinked back a few tears, almost surprised by the staunch support. “T-Thanks,” he hiccupped, wiping snot away from his nose. “I’m sorry.”

“You keep using that word and… I don't think you’re supposed to say it,” Ned joked with a small smile, hoping to put Peter at ease. “So… what do you want to do then? I’m down for whatever.”

Peter looked back to his hands, turning him over in disgruntled examination. “Um… well, I could really use your help in getting this thing off me?” he gestured to the costume covering his body.

Ned nodded in approval. “Let’s do it,” he helped Peter up from the chair, “because, no offense, you kind of smell.”

Peter checked himself, lifting his arm up before his nose scrunched in afoul. “Woah—yeah, definitely need a shower.”

“How long have you been wearing it?”

“Long enough to want it off.”

Ned stepped forward, checking the costume to find a zipper or button to undress Peter. He surveyed the outfit, eyes trailing almost every single shade of color Peter wore to find anything out of place.

“Is there a zipper or button to this thing?” he asked, circling around Peter to check his back. All he saw was another spider logo. “Or is it like a peel on and off type of thing?”

“No idea,” Peter skirted his hands along his shoulder blades in an attempt to find any hidden zippers or hooks. “I don’t think so.”

“How did you put it on?”

Peter furrowed his brows in thought. “It kind of… hit me from the back. And then formed itself around me?” he described with uncertainty. “Kind of like how Iron Man’s suits work.”

That was not helpful at all.

“Okay, well, turn around. Toward the light,” Ned gestured for his friend to spin. Peter did and Ned examined the back again. “I don’t see anything. It’s just another spider symbol. Are you sure there isn’t like… have you tried to peel it off?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do, but it’s made out of nanites,” Peter sounded frustrated as he turned back to Ned. “It doesn’t really work like that. They counter every attempt I make to remove them.”

“Nanites?” Ned gasped, wowed as he admired the state-of-the-art suit before him. “Holy smokes! It’s nanotechnology? That’s so awesome! I mean… wow! This is gotta be the coolest thing I have ever—”

He cut off his hyper-ramblings when he saw the look on Peter’s face. “Okay, yeah, whatever. It’s not that cool," he tried to act nonchalant about it. “Okay, so um… maybe, erm, do you have like a manual?”

“A manual?” Peter cocked his brows in exasperated obviousness. “No, I didn’t get a manual. Didn’t sit through a tutorial either.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Ned tried to placate him. “Just asking. Hmm… there has to be a way to take it off. How does Tony Stark take his off?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t stay behind to find out.”

“Okay… okay,” Ned contemplated on different tactics of removal. “Um… what if I hold onto the sleeve here and you… we both pull in different directions? Maybe we can get an arm free and work from there?”

Peter considered it. “Worth a shot.”

Ned took Peter’s wrist, digging underneath the material to get a good grip. Peter braced his legs. He gave the signal. Ned pulled, muscles strained from exerting all his strength. He pulled, tugged and gave a hard jerk as Peter held ground. Yet, nothing happened. No budge. Ned only felt the nanites ripple under his fingertips, almost revolting and actively countering their attempts to peel them off of Peter.

Ned huffed as he dropped Peter’s wrist in defeat. “All right… glued tight,” he begrudgingly acknowledged. “There’s got to be a way. Tony Stark couldn’t expect you to wear that thing twenty-four/seven.”

“Probably not,” Peter agreed, looking downtrodden that he was being captive by the nanite suit, “but I wouldn’t be surprised if only he could take it off.” He paused for a second, jaw clenched. “I bet only _he_ can take it off. Which means, I’m stuck in this until he finds me.”

“No, no,” Ned shook his head, not willing to surrender. “We’ll figure it out. C’mon, we’re one of the brightest kids in Midtown. You, especially. We can figure this out.”

He pondered, cupping his chin with his fingers. “Does your suit have like a helper? Like a Siri? Or an Alexa?”

“You mean an AI?” Peter queried. “Like FRIDAY?”

Ned didn’t know what FRIDAY was. “I guess so,” he said, hesitant. “Anything like Iron Man has?”

Deep lines ran across Peter’s forehead. “Maybe. Tony did order FRIDAY to send me home,” he contemplated, although, again, Ned didn’t know what he meant. “Hold on…”

Peter situated himself. A minuscule twitch of his face and suddenly, a horde of nanites zoomed up and materialized over his entire head. Ned gasped in fright and awe. That was awesome! The reaction time was incredible, and Peter didn’t have to say a word. The nanites reacted based on a single, facial twitch.

Then, Ned heard Peter’s muffled voice from behind the mask. “Hey, um… FRIDAY? Are you there?”

Ned listened closely, waiting to hear a robotic voice to respond. He heard nothing. Disappointment filled him as he sighed in another defeat, but Peter jerked. It shocked Ned, scaring him enough to shuffle backwards to put more distance between them.

“Oh my god! KAREN?” Peter half-shouted in excitement.

Ned whipped his head around, scanning his bedroom. He saw no one else in the room. No girl standing behind him either. Who the hell was Karen then?

Peter didn’t notice Ned’s befuddlement. He kept talking, sounding like he was having a one-person conversation. “KAREN, I need your help,” he began. “I need to know how to take this off. How do I take this suit off? Is there like a procedure? Or a word I have to say? A protocol?”

Another long pause before Peter gestured wildly at Ned to get his attention. “Ned!” he cried, his big bug-eyes staring right at him. “I need you!”

Ned took one step forward. “Yeah?”

“There’s a detachable unit in the back of my suit. Somewhere in the middle of the spider,” Peter explained, waving his hand behind him. “I need you to hit it and that should get the nanites to retreat.”

Ned circled Peter again, staring at his back. There was nothing attached to his back. "Are you sure? I don’t see anything?”

"It’s there, just blending in because of the nanites. Just push in the middle of the spider. It should work.”

He checked the spider logo again, zeroing in on the middle section. With a hopeful breath, he poked the middle of the spider. A ripple shot out from where he jabbed. The costume shimmered for a second, before the nanites all retreated. Ned gaped as he observed millions of nanites crawl backwards, coming back to the centerfold, folding up into the silver unit that was latched onto Peter's jacket. 

"This is amazing," Ned muttered as the nanites gathered inside the unit, revealing a disheveled teenager underneath the glittering armor. 

When all the nanites retreated inside the compartment unit, Ned snatched the device off the jacket.

“Got it!” he announced.

Peter spun around, eyes rounding at the sight of the small device unit that contained all the nanites. Ned held it gingerly in his palm, barely moving to avoid activating the nanites out of the compartment. Carefully, he lifted it to Peter, wanting to know what he should do with it.

Peter took it from Ned, removing Ned from any possible dangers. A tight frown came over Peter’s face as his eyes lingered on device, not pleased entirely to be holding a multi-million dollar suit.

Ned let out a stressed breath. “Well, you’re a free man now,” he joked, but no laughter came from either of them. Peter was free from the suit, but trouble still lied ahead for them. "What's next? We burn it?"

"It's fireproof."

"Really?"

Peter nodded. “Yeah, it has some kind of self-contained environmental protection, so it won’t burn,” he explained, studying the unit. “Do you still have your hacking tools?”

“Yeah… why?”

“I need you to hack into this.”

Ned’s jaw dropped. “What? You want me to hack into a Stark technology?”

“We need to completely shut it down.”

“Is it not shut down?” Ned questioned, eyeing the quiet device that held the nanites.

“We contained it, but I want to know what Mr. Stark put into this suit,” Peter said, waving the device in his hand. “I want to check it before I dump it somewhere.”

Ned antagonized the task. The idea of hacking into an egotistical genius, madman’s stuff was not appealing, especially when it may bring unwanted attention to them. Despite his misgivings, Ned knew he was going to do it. Already, he pulled out his backpack, digging for his tools and laptop.

“Hand it over,” Ned ordered as he sat at his desk.

Peter came up behind him, placing the unit on the desk. Ned flinched, half expecting the device to activate and nanites to spill out all over his desk, swallowing it whole.

Peter read his mind. “Don’t worry,” he said to ease Ned’s worries. “I think it’s programed to attach itself to me.”

That didn’t lessen Ned’s worries, but he put on a brave face as he began hooking up the device, readying for the ultimate hack.

Ned’s fingers tingled. Heart pulsing on a faster beat. He was about to hack into Stark technology. Not only plain, simple technology, but Stark, nanotechnology designed by The Futurist. The Robotic Wunderkind! And Ned… he was good, but Stark’s technology was unhackable. At least, word on the street it was impossible to hack his technology. Many tried. All failed. Spectacularly. And embarrassingly.

While terrified, Ned felt pumped, more alive than ever. All the other qualms and worries were muted. Only this moment as he hooked the wires from the compartment unit to his laptop.

He logged on. The screen lit up. The programs started. And, Ned hunched over to work.

Peter knelt beside him. A waft of stench came right off him and Ned cringed as his nostrils burned.

Ned slowed his typing. “Hey,” he started as he tried not to breathe through his nose. “Do you want to take a shower now while I try to get in? It’s not exactly the most thrilling part of hacking at the moment, so you won’t miss anything, and you know… you can get yourself washed up and wear clean clothes.”

Peter’s cheeks quickly flushed as he pulled away. He threw up an embarrassed smile, knowing very well what Ned wanted. “Sorry, um, I can take a shower real quick. Are the towels in the bathroom still?”

Once Peter tiptoed off to the bathroom to shower and Ned ensured his parents’ slumber wasn’t disturbed, he went back to the hack.

He typed away, inputting codes and rerouting information to help him wade through the device’s network. As expected, Stark had many safeguards that blocked every attempt Ned made to break through the network. The system kept erasing everything Ned inserted, almost like the machine was alive and fighting back. Ned never encountered something like that before, but this was Stark. Probably advanced technology that the public never even knew about. A new kind of tech that actively fought off intruders.

As he worked, he occasionally stopped to glance at the door, listening to the silence. Anxiety rippled through his guts, making him squirm and jolt at every creak, jostle and groan the walls or floors made. Eyes darted from the door to window to laptop back to the door, waiting for it to burst down and agents storm through, tackling him. Killing him.

Deep in his worries, he was shocked when his laptop flickered and a red light flashed. Shit. Ned pulled up to his desk, reading the line of coding.

Double shit. It had taken over. It hacked his laptop.

“Shit,” Ned pounded the keypad, fingers moving fast across the keys to counterattack the sudden attack on his laptop. “Not good. Not good.”

“What’s not good?”

Ned jumped in his seat. His own heart thrown up in his throat before he swung around to see Peter. His hair was wet, curls pasted to his forehead, and he wore his old clothes, with the exception of the shirt. That was replaced with an oversized T-shirt Ned lent him.

Peter flickered his doe eyes from Ned to the laptop. “What’s wrong?”

“I think I got my laptop hacked instead of the other way around,” he said, turning back to the situation. “This was a bad idea. Stark’s going to get your location. Shit—agents are coming to our house. My parents are going to go to jail. I’m going to go to jail. Or worse—”

“Stop freaking out. Just calm down,” Peter reassured his friend, but Ned saw how he nibbled on his lower lip. “Let’s just… _wait_. Do you have speakers?”

Ned’s brows formed a quizzical arch, but he turned on his laptop audio. “Why do we need the speakers?”

“Because, I think I know who is attacking you.”

“Um, so do I,” Ned said. “It’s Tony Stark.”

“No, it’s not,” Peter answered, and the speakers on the laptop crackled to life. “… KAREN?”

_“Hello, Peter.”_

Ned threw his hands away from the keyboard, eyes popping out. “W-What… Who—who is that?!”

“It’s KAREN. My AI.”

“What!?”

Peter ignored him. “KAREN, what are you doing? Why are you hacking the laptop?”

“ _Outside influence is trying to interfere with my protocols_ ,” KAREN replied. “ _I am defending my system so that I can continue to function to my full capacity. Tony Stark authorized me to use whatever means necessary to ensure my safeguards and functions are not compromised”_

All the blood drained right out of Ned’s face. “Oh shit… oh shit,” he muttered, freaking out. “She ratted us out. She told Stark. They’re coming to get us. Oh shit! Oh shit! We gotta shut everything down!”

Ned rushed to unplug, but Peter stopped him. “No! Wait,” he ordered, and he turned back to the compromised laptop. “KAREN, have you alerted Mr. Stark or FRIDAY about this?”

_“Tony Stark is unavailable and FRIDAY has not accessed my files yet._ ”

Peter visibly relaxed. “We’re good, Ned,” he said, patting Ned’s shoulder. “No one knows yet.”

“Oh, great, because that makes me feel better,” Ned grumbled, wary of KAREN. “We need to abandon this. Throw it into the ocean!”

“Not yet,” Peter insisted, pulling the laptop closer to him. “KAREN—what’s in this suit? What protocols were you trying to protect?”

“ _My main function is to assist and protect Peter Parker. Any attempts on rewiring the protocols without Tony Stark’s authorization is considered a cyberattack that requires retaliation._ ”

Peter and Ned shared a look. “Retaliation?” Peter asked.

_“My first and foremost responsibility is to protect Peter Parker. Any attempts to deactivate that protocol or hinder it, I am to actively protect the system and individual.”_

Ned was surprised by the extreme loyalty the AI had for Peter. 

But, Peter seemed less than thrilled. “That’s great, KAREN, but I need you to stop hacking into the laptop. We’re not attacking. Just want to know what Mr. Stark put into the suit. Can you tell me what exactly your protocols are?”

_“Certainly, Peter. I have two main protocols that are designed to assist and protect you at all cost. The first is the Training Wheels Protocol. The second is the Baby Monitor Protocol._ ”

Ned watched Peter fall aghast at the belittling names. “Seriously? Baby Monitor Protocol?”

_“It is a safety feature that allows me to observe and record everything you see and hear.”_

Ned sucked in a sharp breath. “Okay… okay… Big Brother—or Big Sister is watching for real. We gotta turn it off.”

“Not yet,” Peter hissed. “Look—KAREN? You haven’t sent anything to anyone since I got this suit, right?”

_“That is correct, Peter. With Tony unavailable and FRIDAY not requesting any information, all my data I collected since integration has been in storage and unopened. Would you like me to replay them for you?”_

Now it was Peter who went deathly pale. “NO!” he yelped, but he clamped his mouth shut, eyes widening for a split second as he glanced to the door. When they heard nothing, Peter removed his hands and lowered his voice. “No… no, please! Don’t send it at all. In fact—delete it. Delete all recordings! Video and audio. Delete everything so Mr. Stark can’t have it.”

_“That will hinder my ability to assist you. Are you sure you want me to delete all recordings?”_

“Yes!”

There was a brief pause. Then, KAREN spoke up. _“All recordings deleted. How else may I assist you today, Peter?”_

“What else is there?” Peter asked, pressing for more information. “What else is Mr. Stark making you do? What’s the Training Wheels program or whatever?”

_“It’s another security feature that restricts the access to your full suit’s capabilities. Tony Stark wanted you to complete all your training modules before having full access to the suits features.”_

Peter huffed, muttering under his breath. Ned imagined the training modules were something Peter didn’t enjoy while he was a hostage at Stark’s compound.

He ran a hand down his face, groaning a bit. “Great—KAREN? Please give us full access to your network.”

_“Of course, Peter.”_

The laptop changed, and Ned was granted access to the full network of the suit and its protocols.

Peter pointed to the screen. “Tell me what you see, Ned. Anyway on deprograming it?”

Ned leaned forward in his seat, eyes drawn to the screen littered with different codes and programs designed into the suit. He scrolled through, checking the different programs and what it offered. Most of them revolved in stabilizing the suit, creating its formation and setting up different settings for different functions. Like the webshooters. He saw that line of coding that gave Peter at least a hundred different web combinations.

So cool.

He stopped at a line. He read it twice. “Found something.”

“What?” Peter asked.

“Looks like there’s a tracker in the suit.”

Peter’s spine became a straight rod. “What? There’s a tracker?” Peter sounded panic. “Turn it off! Now!”

Ned started typing, editing to remove the tracking, but his attempts were thrown. Prevented and disabled. “Um… your AI is at it again.”

“KAREN!”

_“I’m sorry, Peter. I cannot allow any damage or editing to the safety protocols. Tony Stark designed me to ensure your safety. I cannot fault on my main protocol.”_

“How is tracking me protecting me!?” Peter spat.

_“It allows Tony Stark to locate you and, in case of emergency, send medical personnel to you right away.”_

Well, at least Stark had some compassion, Ned thought. An evil douche wouldn’t designed such an intensive safety protocol.

Peter, on the other hand, didn’t see it that way. “Shut it down, KAREN. Now!”

_“I’m afraid I cannot. It would require me to shut down completely. It would leave you vulnerable, and that is against my programming.”_

“KAREN—you have to remove the tracking. Mr. Stark cannot find me!”

There was a short silence that followed as the AI tried to compute the request. _“Shutting down would leave you unprotected and that is against my programming. I cannot leave you unprotected, Peter. Tony Stark forbade it.”_

Peter gritted his teeth. “Damn him!” he cried, bitter by KAREN’s refusal. “He’s the person that’s a danger to me! He hurt me! And he’s going to hurt me again! _You gotta help me!_ ”

Ned hoped KAREN would agree to Peter’s plea, but the AI tooted despondently. _“Tony Stark does not want to hurt you. I have videos from his library that counter that assertion. Would you like me to play them?”_

Before Peter could answer, Ned’s screen shifted again, and he saw a video recording of what appeared to be a laboratory. Or maybe a workshop. Ned instantly recognized Peter, sitting on a stool with protective glasses covering half his face. Next to him was Tony Stark, demonstrating some kind of work to Peter. Ned heard Stark’s voice address Peter by name before passing the tool from his hand to Peter’s hand, “ _All right, Petey. Give it a go.”_

“ _Stop_!” Peter shouted, mortified and completely distressed. “Stop it! Stop playing!”

KAREN cut off the video. _“Your heart rate increased,_ ” noted the AI. _“Shall I notify FRIDAY to inform Tony—”_

“No! Don’t do anything! Don’t call that _monster_!” Peter clenched his hands into fists before burying his face in them. “KAREN… _please_! Don’t call him!”

Ned saw fear in his friend’s eyes, wrought with pain, swollen from fresh batch of tears. Peter truly feared Tony Stark. And he believed KAREN was going to betray him by alerting Tony.

A thought ran through his mind. “Hey, erm, KAREN?”

_“Ned Leeds. Peter spoke of you often. He said you would be jealous of his Star Wars poster_.”

Ned swapped a questionable look at Peter, but his friend didn’t explain what the AI meant. “Um, yeah, er… can I ask a question?” When the AI consented, he followed, “Who do you serve?”

_“I do not understand.”_

Peter shot up brow at Ned’s questioning, but Ned proceeded. “Are you loyal to Tony Stark or Peter?”

_“I am loyal to both.”_

He figured. “But who has more authority?”

A short pause, and Ned and Peter held their breaths in anticipation of the answer. Then, the AI spoke up. “ _My very existence is to_ serve _Peter Parker—to guide and protect him.”_

“Then that means you have to listen to him, right?” Ned challenged the AI. “If he tells you someone is hurting him, you are obligated to protect him from that.”

Peter dropped his hands onto the desk, understanding where Ned was going. “Your protocol states that you have to protect me from whatever is threatening me,” he said. “And right now, Mr. Stark is the danger. You have to protect me from that man.”

_“Tony Stark does not want to harm you. He—”_

“He already hurt me, KAREN,” Peter cut her off, growing more agitated by her continuous denial. “Far worse than anyone else in the world. And if you won’t protect me from him, then… well, then I’m going to protect myself.”

Peter snapped his attention to Ned. “Remove the tracker. Shut down the Baby Monitor Protocol. You know what—shut KAREN down entirely.”

As Ned got to work again, KAREN spoke up. _“I advise against doing that, Peter. I am designed specifically to ensure your health and safety. Shutting me down from the suit won’t give you the protection you need. What if you get hurt?”_

“I’ll survive, and if I die,” Peter paused for a moment, eyes glistening again. “Well, if I die, I’m okay with that.”

Ned stopped typing. Peter didn’t mean that. Peter wasn’t suicidal. Depressed, certainly, but he wouldn’t let himself die. He grew worrisome, sneaking a concerned glance at Peter, wondering if his friend truly meant what he said. Even the AI sounded disturbed. Ned swore he heard KAREN let out a soft whimper. The AI was truly attached to Peter, and the mere thought of Peter dying made it sad.

_“I do not want you to die, Peter_.”

“I know,” Peter said, not unkind. More understanding. “But, I can’t let you help Mr. Stark. I’m sorry. I have to erase you.”

A reflective pause followed for the AI as she took the news. Ned busied himself on trying to decode and debug the system, make her obsolete, but her safeguards kept him succeeding. Every attempt, his code was erased and replaced with the former code. Nothing he did managed to break through her security, making him more desperate to find a way around KAREN. Find a path that would disable her without her counterattacking his programming. For everyone’s safety, he needed to shut her very existence off. Erase her away like Tony Stark did to the rest of the world.

Then, suddenly, the red light turned green on Ned’s screen. He freaked out. “What the… what’s happening?”

Peter drew closer to the screen. “KAREN? What are you doing?”

Silence. The AI was gone.

“Oh shit,” Ned blubbered, typing rapidly again to regain control. “Oh shit! She’s reporting us. She betrayed you and now—”

He stopped talking. The screen changed again. The codes evolved, changing. Both he and Peter noticed, watching codes filter through the network. Ned followed carefully, reading along to the changes. Peter tried his best, but he lacked the computer skills Ned had.

“What’s happening? What is she doing?”

“I’m not sure,” Ned answered, trying to keep up with new lines of coding and decoding that continued down his screen. “I’m trying to… oh my God!”

“What?!”

Ned read it twice. “The tracker… it’s gone!

“It is?” Peter sounded shocked as well. “Did you do it?”

Ned shook his head. “I think… I think it’s your AI?” he said, as the program continued its debugging and decoding. “… I think it’s shutting itself down?”

Peter’s face pinched in confusion, flickering questionable glances from Ned to the screen. “Are you sure?”

Before Ned could confirm his theory, the coding process stopped. A single sentence came up.

GOODBYE PETER.

Then, it went black.

Both boys stared at the blank, dark screen. Nothing else showed up. Ned’s laptop was still running, as was his hacking program, but the screen that was once littered with coding, vanished. Gone.

Ned didn’t realize it, but they were both holding their breaths, waiting for something to backfire on them. But nothing happened. They exchanged looks, wondering if KAREN dismantled herself or if she retreated into the suit, reporting back to FRIDAY—Tony Stark—of Peter’s location.

Peter hissed a breath. “You wanna double check and make sure?”

Ned rebooted the program again and reinitiated contact between the two devices to pull up the mainframe. It was completely blanked. Empty.

He sunk back in his seat. “I think… I think your AI erased everything.”

“What?”

Ned gestured to the screen. “It’s empty. There’s nothing there,” he explained. “KAREN wiped the suit clean. There’s nothing. Just… nanites, I guess.”

“There’s no suit?” Peter questioned.

“No suit. No tracker. No protocols. Nothing,” he said, double-checking, but found nothing. “It’s all gone.”

Peter turned back to the screen, eyeing it. “She did it,” he whispered. “She erased herself.”

“To protect you.”

Peter huffed in disagreement. “Only because I was going to do it to her.”

Ned hesitated to tell him that he wasn’t successfully in getting into her mainframe. “She still did it herself,” he offered. “She picked you over him.”

A little smile poked into Peter’s cheeks. It was sad, melancholy, but there was a flash of honored respect along his face as he looked down at the disabled unit device. KAREN was gone. The nanites were useless now. Only hibernating until backed up again.

Ned powered down and unplugged the two devices. He cleaned up his workspace and picked up the device again. He checked it out, cross-examining it to be certain, but the device didn’t activate. It remained inactive.

“It’s done,” Ned confirmed about the deactivated device. “Stark cannot get access on your whereabouts through the suit.”

He passed it to Peter, who held it gently in his hands. His thumb caressing it. “Now—you planning to burn it or bury it?” Ned queried.

“Neither,” Peter answered, pocketing the device into his pants. “Not sure what I am going to do with it quite yet, but I think I’ll hold onto it. Just in case.”

“In case you want to be Spider-man, again?” Ned asked, hopeful.

Peter shook his head, walking away to get his jacket that he left on the floor. He picked it up and shrugged his arms into its sleeves. He zipped up the jacket and flipped the hood up over his head, his face shadowed. Then, he moved toward Ned’s bedroom window.

Ned immediately got up. “Where you going?”

“I told you I can’t stay,” Peter reminded him, opening the window and letting the night air rush indoors. “Once Mr. Stark gets better, he’s going to send people here. It’s best I’m not around here when that happens.”

“But… but…” Ned didn’t want to lose his best friend again. “Where are you going to go? Where’re you going to stay?”

“Don’t worry. I have a place,” Peter reassured him. “It’s where Captain America and his team hid. I’ll be safe there.”

“And where’s that at?”

“I can’t tell you,” Peter said and Ned knew, deep down, he wasn’t going to get that answer. “For your safety and mine, it’s best you don’t know. I’ll try to stay in touch, but for now, I have to stay on the down-low. Wait until this whole thing blows over.”

“Blows over?” Ned said in a panic. “It’s not going to blow over in years!”

Peter sounded resigned to the fact Ned may be right. “Yeah, I know, but it’s the best I can do at the moment. I don’t want you to be dragged into this.” Ned shot him a look. “Well… any more than you already had. Mr. Stark won’t stop looking for me until he’s certain I’m dead. That could take a couple of months. Maybe a year. I don’t know. But… I’ll do my best to keep in touch with you, Ned. I’ll let you know I’m okay.”

“Or if you’re not,” Ned added, needing to make sure Peter understood that coming to him and his family was an option. That he would be safe with them. “Seriously Peter. If you ever need refuge, you can come here. My parents will protect you. I’ll protect you. Hell—come here even if you need to shower and eat. Wait… do you need food?”

Peter lamely shrugged and tried to draw out some kind of gibberish excuse.

Ned raised one finger. “Hold on! One second! Don’t go anywhere!”

He hurried off to the kitchens, keeping his feet light as a mouse as he busied around the cabinets, pantry and refrigerator. He threw bread, lunch meat, gummies, cookies, yogurt, and more into a plastic bag before he returned to his bedroom.

He was relieved to see Peter still there. “Here,” Ned shoved the bag of grocery items into his arms. “Take this with you. To help tide you over. And, again, if you need more food or whatever, come here. Really.”

Peter looked inside the bag, eyes shiny all over again. “Thanks, Ned,” he said, with a soft sniffle. He looked back up, right at his friend. “I’m sorry to leave you like this.”

“So am I,” It hurt Ned that he couldn’t do more to help Peter. But, if this was the best way, so be it. “But, Peter, please! If you are ever in trouble—”

“I’ll come to you,” Peter finished, face getting a little pinker. “Yeah… of course! You’re my Guy in the Chair.”

Ned let a small smile spread on his face before he strode over to embrace his friend one last time. They both hugged, clutching each other tight. For all they knew, it could be their last goodbye to one another. It twisted Ned’s guts for thinking the hug as their last one. He had to believe they would see each other again. Maybe not sooner than Ned hoped for, but… one day. In the near future again.

They soon parted, and Ned gave one final request. “Be safe, man. Don’t get yourself caught.”

“Same to you. Agents will come to your house to ask questions, so please be careful,” Peter returned, a worry on his lip. “I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me.”

“I’ll be careful,” Ned promised. “Don’t worry. I can lie pretty easily.”

Peter rolled his eyes at the last commented, but accepted the promise that Ned wouldn’t rat him out. It was time for him to go. Peter moved to the window. He threw one leg over the sill and then the other. He dangled over the edge, plastic bag filled with food in one hand. He craned his head over his neck, looking one last time at Ned.

One last time for Ned to see his friend’s face.

“Thanks for everything, Ned.”

Ned somberly nodded, wishing it didn’t have to end like this. Wishing Peter could stay and live with him and his family.

“I’ll always be here for you.”

His friend smiled warmly, appreciative and honored, before he turned back around, facing the city once more. And then, he was gone. Peter leapt from the window sill and into the night, blending into the shadows and disappearing from sight. 

Ned lost his friend again.

He tried to go to bed, but struggled to sleep. His fears and anxieties for Peter filtered into his dreams, keeping him distressed and awake. He wished he knew Peter was safe. Wished that he could do more for him, but Peter was right. There was little Ned could do to help him without exposing Peter to Stark or SHIELD. It was best Ned knew little as possible, even if he hated it.

He prayed to whomever was above and mighty that Peter Parker would stay safe through it all.

The sky was lessening. White light bled through the curtains, lightening up his bedroom. Morning was coming.

The Long Night came to an end.

But, everything else was just beginning.

* * *

Peter was right. They came two days later.

It was early afternoon when a knock reverberated throughout the home. Ned’s parents shot each other questionable looks, wondering if the other knew who was at the door.

Ned’s mother answered, surprised to find two officers standing at her threshold, asking to speak with her son.

“It’s about a murder investigation, mam,” said one officer with dark, velvet like hair with stunning grey eyes which searched their home as he walked into the foyer. His long black trench coat fluttered about his ankles. “We are hoping to talk to your son about Peter Parker.”

His mother drew a hand to her heart. “Peter? W-What? Why?” she asked, tripping over her words a bit. “I’m sorry. I don’t quite follow. Why are you investigating Peter’s death? I thought it was closed.”

What his mother truly meant was why two investigators were interested in a murder case that occurred a year ago when the Decimation plagued the whole planet. It didn’t make any sense to her. It did for Ned though. He knew why those agents showed up at his door, wanting to speak to him. And he knew what he needed to say.

He obliged the two officers’ inquiry, sitting on his couch with his parents on either side of him as the agents asked questions. Questions that seemed normal, but Ned knew what they were digging for. They watched him too closely rather than listened to his answers.

Ned put up his best face, steady voice, focused eyes and calm breaths. When needed he acted agitated and or sad at the reminder that Peter was “dead”, he haggard his breathing and squished his face smaller. It must have worked because the agents thanked him and left, leaving behind a card for them to get into touch if they remembered or learned anything new.

Once the agents were gone, his mother shook her head in distrust. “I don’t know about them,” she muttered, putting the card away. “Why are they investigating Peter’s murder with everything that’s happening now? It doesn’t make sense. Not to say Peter’s murder isn’t—”

“I know,” Ned answered, not needing her explanation. If Ned didn’t know about Peter being alive, he too would be curious for the surprise visit. But, he did know and that made it all the more real. That the dangers to him and his family were possible. “I guess everyone is just trying to get back to normal.”

Ned left it at that, hurrying back up to his room. He wished he could talk to Peter again. Warn him of the visit. He drew back the curtain, looking out of his bedroom window. The agents strode down the block, toward a parked, black SUV. They got in the back, but the vehicle didn’t leave. It stayed.

Ned scuttled back from the window. Drawing heavy breaths, he crouched as low as he could and pulled the curtains back over the window without them seeing him. With the curtain closed, he relaxed. Only for a little bit.

It was a good thing Peter had no plans to return. If he came back or if he had stayed, they would grab him. And Peter would be gone all over again.

He peeked underneath the curtain. The SUV was still there. Not moving. Ned slid away from the window again, thinking. Peter told him it was over. Governments toppled. All of the Avengers were dead. Stark won.

The world now belonged to Tony Stark.

Everyone cheered when Tony Stark returned to their television screens. Stark, in his injured, but recovering state, promised to assist in getting the world back on its feet. Promised to do better. Be better. The world believed him. Trusted him. Showered their devotion onto every lie he uttered. He was the hero. Earth’s greatest defender and now, salvation.

Ned’s stomach curdled, tightening to an uncomfortable cramp. Ned sucked in a deep breath. The sickening realization overwhelmed all of his senses, drowning and suffocating and contorting everything he ever knew. Everything he ever believed.

He drew himself close, trembling at the thought of this dangerous new world. He wondered if he was the only one who knew. Knew of the treachery and the lies. That the man on the screen was no longer Iron Man.

Michelle and Peter were right.

The Avengers were done. All the heroes were dead.

The Age of Heroes had ended.


	7. THE BABY MONITOR PROTOCOL

Tony Stark sat at his workbench, tinkering with an old portable radio that he purchased from a store he saw in Europe a year ago. He enjoyed taking things and improving them, making them better. It was an old hobby of his since he was a kid. When he didn’t want to create something out of nothing, he would grab a nearby object and simply make it better.

It was a long day. Longer than normal it seemed, but that may be due to the arrival party. A team he sent out was returning this afternoon, and Tony looked forward to having them back home. They’d been gone for a week, and Tony missed his lab partner. But, to keep himself occupied and distracted long enough to make the time fly, he sat in his workshop at the Tower, trying to reconstruct the radio into a suitable gift.

“Whatcha doing?”

Tony’s heart leaped from his chest and crashed into his ribcage. He swirled around in his chair, spying a little girl, with long, dark wavy hair and deep brown, doe-like eyes watching him. Her head tilted to one side, face scrutinizing on the object in front of him as if trying to figure out the answer herself rather than have him tell her.

Tony blocked it. “How did you get in here, Little Miss?”

“The door was open.”

Tony raised his gaze to the door. He remembered the door being closed. It always closed and locked when he entered and left. FRIDAY always ensured to seal it shut and deny anyone entrance unless given clearance by him personally.

So, seeing a five year old girl infiltrate his workshop, concerned him. Well, concerned him a bit. After all, she is her father’s daughter.

“Uh-huh,” Tony said as he questionably studied her. She had the nerve to act innocent too. She knew the act. Clever girl. “Let’s say I believe you only for today. Now, what brings you here?”

“I wanna know what you’re workin’ on.”

She always did. Much like her father, always curious and wanting to learn. Tony sighed, raking his fingers through his hair in contemplation. “Well, that’s a secret,” he said. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why?”

“It’s a secret. That’s why.”

“Why’s it a secret?”

Long pause. Tony didn’t have a good answer to give her. After all, the secret was because he planned to give it to her as a gift. Figured she would enjoy a radio that did more than play music.

But the little girl smiled wide, figuring out the secret. “It’s for me!”

“No—”

“Yes it is,” she grinned, ear-to-ear, eyes beaming with happiness as she bounded her way to the desk. “What is it? Can I see it?”

“No!” Tony scooted his chair to stop her from climbing up on the table. “Okay—settle down,” he said. “Where’s your mom? Isn’t she supposed to be watching you?”

“I’m a big kid,” she pouted out her lower lip. “I don’t need to be watched.”

Tony did his best to not roll his eyes at the silly comment. Being five years old didn’t make her a “big kid”, but granted, he often told her enough times that she’s growing up so fast. That was his fault. He convinced her that she was old enough to do a lot of things. Then again, she did act far more mature for her age.

“Of course not,” he offered her a kind smile. “But I figured you would want to be with your mom. You know with…”

“I’m bored at home. I wanna build something.”

Tony half-snorted. Jesus Christ… she was very much like her father.

She enlarged her eyes, looking up at Tony with a shiny, sad gaze. “Pretty please?”

Tony felt himself faltering and then cursed silently. “Oh, all right,” he succumbed to her demands. “Get on up here.”

He reached down, taking her up by the armpits and hoisting her up on his lap. He honestly needed to have DUM-E bring another chair into the workshop if she was going to keep sneaking in. Better yet, he needed to upgrade FRIDAY’s security system. It still baffled him how the girl snuck in without FRIDAY stopping her or alerting him.

But, who would say no to Maybelle Parker?

She was truly the spitting image of both her parents. She had all their best qualities, molded into one tiny human being. She had MJ’s stubborn determination and observation skills, and her father’s curiosity and optimistic attitude. She also inherited her father’s jabbering habits. The kid talked a lot, rambling on and on about whatever came to her mind. It was endearing enough that Tony never minded. It only reminded him more of her father.

And like her father, Maybelle joined in on the tinkering. She was fascinated with everything at his workbench. Tony was patient, explaining each tool and doing demonstrations before he went back to focus on her not-so-secret gift anymore. He asked if she had any requests, to which she did. She always did. Some of them were far-fetched (for today’s standards, but maybe one day in the future), but she only wanted a radio that could get in communication with her dad wherever he was.

Tony smiled at her. “Yeah, I think the two of us could build something like that,” he said, ruffling her hair a bit. “Why don’t you keep those safety goggles on? Don’t want you to lose an eye.”

Maybelle pressed her safety goggles to her face. And in a serious fashion, she looked right up to Tony, chin tipped and mouth pressed in readiness. “I’m ready!”

“All right, May Day,” Tony teased as rose to his feet and settled her down in his chair. “You promise to behave and follow all my instructions?”

Maybelle gave a short nod.

“Good—let’s start.”

Tony and Maybelle spent the next few hours in the workshop, building up on the radio. He taught Maybelle along way, although he knew she wouldn’t remember all of it. Or any of it. She was only five years old, and while it was clear she was a gifted child, she wasn’t quite yet ready to understand the mechanics of engineering 101. Still, that wasn’t important. Tony enjoyed hanging-out with his favorite girl, even if she didn’t understand it all. Seeing Maybelle be wowed and ecstatic at everything made him happy. Her smiles and coos were all worth it, and it made life far easier and lighter than the year prior to her existence.

An alarm rang out over them as FRIDAY alerted Tony. “ _Boss? They are approaching the helipad_.”

Tony put down the wire cutters and looked right to Maybelle. “It’s time,” he told her as she shot up, straighter, almost jumping right out of the stool. “You wanna see your dad?”

* * *

The winds were high, smacking Tony in the face in not a gentle way. He held Maybelle in his arms, balancing her on his old hip as she looked up to the sky at the approaching helicopter. The helicopter cautiously closed in on the landing pad. It slowed its speed, the wind growing stronger with the helicopter’s blades.

Tony brushed Maybelle’s hair away from her face, hoping she could see the helicopter descended towards them. The blades slowly died, the winds turning into a gentler breeze. The landing skids touched ground and balanced out before the engine’s whine croaked out a final end. The passenger door slid open.

Maybelle let out a squeal. She began to kick and shuffle out of Tony’s arms, desperate to get down. He didn’t restrain her. He gently lowered her feet to the ground and the moment her sandals hit the pavement, Maybelle bolted to the man stepping out of the helicopter.

And by man, Tony meant the young Peter Parker.

Peter Parker, despite being a father to a five year old child, was a kid to Tony. He was only twenty-three years old. A baby by all means from Tony’s viewpoint. He would have been a college senior now, if he had attended MIT like Tony wanted him too, but Peter refused to leave MJ and Maybelle behind in New York. Instead, Tony had to accept Peter’s admissions into Columbia University, which took two years for Tony to accept. In fact, it was still kind of a sore spot for him.

Peter looked much the same as his sixteen year old self. An average individual with brown, unruly hair, small, doe-like eyes, and he stood at average height. He was slender and limbered, walking with balance of a gymnast. But, Peter Parker was no average individual. Since he was bitten by a radioactive spider, Peter proved to the world that he was far more than an average being.

He could lift and toss a subway car without a single, labored breath. His doe eyes saw everything, even a minuscule fly from far away. He could hear people speak miles away, and his skin could grip onto any surface.

No, Peter Parker was no average person. Especially not to the little one running full speed at him.

Peter burst into a smile, dropping to his knees and spreading his arms out wide. Maybelle crashed right into Peter, but it didn’t knock him over. Again, his spider abilities kept him from tipping over. He wrapped his strong arms around her, pulling her up with him as he stood and hugged her close. Maybelle rested her head on his shoulder, whispering in his ear. Tony didn’t know what, but by the look in Peter’s eyes, it was something nice.

Peter carried his daughter across the landing and to where Tony stood, waiting for him. “Have a nice flight?”

Peter adjusted Maybelle onto his hip, easily holding her in one hand compared to Tony’s two arm hold. “You know my feelings about flying.”

Tony did and he hated when he had to send Peter somewhere that required air travel. But, he liked to think Peter was a little accustomed to it by now. Better than he was when he was that fifteen year old boy, gripping his seat onto dear life and refusing to look out the window. Tony remembered how he had to coax Peter to look, with promises that if anything happened, Tony would catch him.

So far, he hadn’t failed yet.

Peter looked behind Tony and then to the sides, eyes searching. “Where’s…”

“She’s not here,” Tony answered for him. “She’s probably back in the apartment. May Day and I were spending some time in the workshop and figured we should go up and surprise you.”

Tony didn’t miss the way Peter squeezed his daughter tight to himself. “Oh… okay,” he said, and he smiled back at Maybelle. “What were you doing in Tony’s workshop, eh?”

Maybelle’s face split into a bright grin. “Building a radio!” she said, boastfully. “It’ll keep me in contact with you at all times.”

“Really?” Peter said, matching his daughter’s expression. God—they were so much alike, Tony thought. “That sounds awesome. Is it done? Can you show it to me?”

Maybelle quickly looked to Tony for an answer. “Oh, I still got a few things to do before it can be used,” Tony answered. “But it’s coming along nicely. May Day here won’t need a phone to get a hold of you. Just her new walkie-talkie.”

“I’ll always find you,” Maybelle said, snuggling close to her father. “I can be your girl in the chair!”

Tony watched the slight tremor in Peter’s face when his daughter said those lines. It only lasted for a beat, before Peter threw up a façade to cover the sorrow his heart suffered. He forced another smile for his daughter to distract her.

“I do need one of those,” Peter said. “My last guy had to, um, retire.”

“Don’t worry, Daddy,” Maybelle said, full of pride and boast. “I won’t quit on you.”

Peter choked up a giggle before he kissed the side of his daughter’s head. “I know,” he murmured and then sighed. “Okay, now, Tony and I need to talk for a moment, so I’m going to have to—”

“That’s okay,” Tony interrupted him.

Peter stopped speaking and looked at him, surprised. “What?”

“You can have the afternoon off,” Tony replied. “Spend time with May Day here and MJ. They’ve missed you.”

Peter stared long and hard at Tony, as if his words had secret meanings behind them. Some kind of code, but Tony meant everything.

When he found no hidden agenda, Peter relaxed a little. “Thanks, boss,” he said, grateful. “I appreciate it.”

“Good,” Tony smiled. “So, go and enjoy your family time. I’ll see you in the penthouse for dinner.”

Peter halted right there. “Dinner? But, I was hoping…”

“I’ll see you at dinner, Pete,” Tony said again. His tone was light for Maybelle’s benefit, but he pressed a serious undertone that he knew Peter couldn’t miss. “Hang-out with your family for now, and then I’ll see you later for dinner. We can talk then.”

Peter wanted to say more. Wanted to argue or barter, but Tony wasn’t going to change his mind. And Peter started to figure that to be the case. His protégé sighed, looking tired suddenly, but nodded his head in agreement.

“All right,” he concurred. “I’ll see you around eight.”

“Seven,” Tony corrected. “Got a lot to cover.”

Peter nodded again, but Maybelle looked crestfallen. “I want to come,” she announced, poking her father’s shoulder. “Daddy—I want to have dinner with you.”

“You can have dinner with me tomorrow, munchkin,” Peter said, lightly as if to make it seem that was a far better idea. “Plus, you get to have breakfast with me too.”

Maybelle did not find that a better option. Her lips pursed in the same manner as her mother when angered, and her eyes squinted in frustration at her father’s face. Her fingers balled up and her legs started to twitch—all signs of a lightened fuse.

Here came May Day.

Maybelle’s tantrums weren’t common nor rare. She was like any other five year old. But, what Tony realized that her tantrums had no warning period. No time to defuse the matter. The moment it was lit, it was going to happen, and in full force.

The first explosion was an erupted scream. The high-pitch wail of a child in desperation and hurt that made every adult look their way in concern, ready to fight for whatever was hurting the child. Tony flinched at the sound, and he was surprised when Peter didn’t jerk. For a man with super-hearing, he didn’t show any signs of being inflicted by his daughter’s cries.

The next burst was a series of jerky movements. Most of the time it consisted of her stomp, flailing or her rolling into a ball with the occasionally smacks against the floor. However, this time she was in her father’s arms, so she resulted in smacking Peter’s shoulder and chest. She clutched her father’s shirt, balling it in her fist as she cried and heaved her protest.

Fat tears streamed down her small, round eyes. It left messy streaks down her cheeks and her face turned bright red in agitation. Her face screwed in distraught, lines embedded in her forehead, deep curves around her severe frown, and eyes pinched shut as she continued her wails.

Peter readjusted her on his hip. “Hey… hey, now,” he said in a soothing tone that Tony would be surprised if she heard him, “C’mon… none of that. I’ll have snack time with you today. That’ll be fun. You and I can go around mommy and have _two_ juice pops.”

Maybelle peeked her eyes open. “I-I don’t wanna… it’sss not _fair_!” she screeched. “I wanna h-…have dinnerrr with… _yoouuu_!”

Her last word went off like the third burst of an explosion. She dropped her head onto her father’s shoulder, sobbing loud and her legs kicking in her frustrations.

Peter flickered a glare in Tony’s direction before he detached Maybelle from his hip to place her on the ground. His daughter put up a fight, using both hands to snatch onto her father’s shirt and jacket to keep him from setting her down on the floor. Peter, being Spider-man, was much stronger than his little girl and untangled her fingers from his clothes.

“I know, munchkin,” Peter said. “I want to have dinner with you too, but duty calls. You know that.”

The little girl shook her head, muttering, “No, no, no, no, no, no…”

“Maybelle—”

“ _NO!_ ”

She erupted into another fit. Tiny feet stomping, fatter tears rolling down her cheeks and her face looked like one big sunburn. Peter squatted down to her level and tried to pull her into another embrace, but she smacked his hands and arms. Too mad to want his comfort.

Peter winced at his daughter’s smack, and he reached out to grab…

Wait.

Tony titled his head, eyes narrowed. Peter winced. He never winced. Not from a simple hit. Tony has seen Peter be hit many times as Spider-man, when the two go out to stop terror, and when training, but never had he witnessed the kid wince. And by a simple smack by his daughter on the arm.

He turned his attention back onto the crying child. Peter finally took ahold of his child’s failing limbs, bundling her up close to him. She stopped wiggling, but she continued to hysterically cry.

“Hey… hey,” Peter’s tone was quiet, gentle and caring. Not at all frazzled by his daughter’s fit. “Stop. Okay? Stop. Or you and I won’t have snack time.”

Maybelle sniffled, and hiccupping and choking over her labored breaths. Her cries faded into heavy wheezes.

Peter brushed his hand over her head, pushing away his daughter’s hair out of her wet face. “I want to spend all my time with you too, munchkin,” he said. “And I will after work is all done. Okay?”

The little girl looked unconvinced by her father’s promise, so Tony knelt down too. He gently ruffled Maybelle’s hair to grab her attention. “Hey, kiddo, I promise I won’t keep your dad for long,” he said, brushing a tear away. “And then you can have breakfast, lunch _and dinner_ every day afterwards.”

Maybelle hiccupped. She turned to her father, looking for confirmation, begging that Tony was telling the truth. Peter’s stare was hesitant and unconvinced, but he put up a smile for his daughter.

“See? Tony won’t keep me hostage,” he said, pulling his daughter away from Tony and to his chest. “I’ll even be back tonight to tuck you into bed. I promise.”

That promise got Maybelle to wrap her arms around his father’s neck, and Peter hoisted her up. He held onto his child, her tiny legs wrapped around his midsection as she buried her teary-stained face in his shoulder. There were small squeaks and hiccups, but they had lessened and quieted.

Peter rubbed a hand up and down his daughter’s back in comfort. Tony stood up too, giving space for father and daughter by thanking the pilots for the safe delivery of his kid and Maybelle’s father.

Then, he turned back to Peter.

Maybelle had quietened in her father’s arms, finding that comfort she craved. Peter carried her as he headed to the doors. Tony’s eyes met the kid, and Peter gave a small tilt of his head.

“I’ll see you later,” Peter said.

“Seven sharp.”

Peter’s lips pressed together tight, but he gave a firm nod.

“Tell MJ I say hi too.”

Peter already walked away, but the kid nodded again. Although, Tony knew Peter would not. Michelle Jones _hated_ Tony, despite all that he provided for her and Maybelle: home, clothes, food, job (actually, Michelle refused to work for SI or the Avengers Initiative, so she was a stay-at-home mother), security, medical and anything else they needed or wanted.

Whatever. It was way better than what they had when he found them. Living underground, dirtied, starving and struggling to even find decent baby items for their infant. He rescued them, and if they couldn’t see that, their problem. He did the right thing and they can hate him for it, but he doubted their daughter would be alive and happy. He gave them a good life. The best life for their small family.

He never outwardly demanded gratitude. He understood their distrust and pain. Especially from Peter. He did a lot of wrongs to that kid, and he hoped to make it up by taking care of his family. Tony provided Peter’s daughter the best life could ever offer.

Hell—he gave everything to Peter.

Tony shook his head. He needed to stop dwelling on what they believed. He did the right thing for them. Even if they refuse to see it.

He did the right thing.

* * *

Peter showed up for dinner at seven precisely. Not a minute earlier or later, although Tony guessed he would have rather shown up late. But, Tony knew the kid was not like him. He never strolled to invited events two hours after they started. Peter was more punctual than him.

They did their simple pleasantries. How’s Michelle? _Good. How’re you?_ Fine. Maybelle okay now? _Yeah. She started crying when I left though. Have you spoken to Pepper?_ Only about SI stuff. Have you? _She keeps in touch here and there. Asks after MJ and Maybelle._

It was typical, quick answered questions. A warm-up act to the eventual main event. Sometimes Tony brought blueprints or ideas to the table discussions, asking Peter for his thoughts. Peter was an intelligent kid. Tony always knew that since he met the boy. He didn’t need Reed Richards or Leo Fitz or Jemma Simmons to tell him that. Reed even believed that Peter may be smarter than all of them after he reviewed Peter’s test scores when he was a fifteen. And so far, Peter hadn’t disappointed him.

The kid was brilliant. Tony never had to dumb things down or use kid gloves with Peter (except at the beginning when he was trying to keep the more disturbing aspects of the Accords from the kid). Peter followed on without fault. He understood everything, and was able to successfully help both Tony and Reed on projects. Tony enjoyed watching Peter’s mind work. It reminded Tony of himself when he was that age, deep into projects that one forgot to eat or sleep or even shower. It’s the reason he started leaving snacks around the lab, to make sure Peter had something to eat while he worked. His metabolism required a lot of calories to keep his body going, and if Peter failed to eat enough, he ended up being a pile of goo on the floor. It happened one too many times.

But tonight, after the quick debriefing of what happened in Wyoming, Tony had another, more delicate conversation he wanted to have with Peter.

Dinner was done. The two of them were seated in the living room. Peter kept checking the time. He probably wanted to get back to MJ’s apartment to tuck in his daughter as he promised. Tony had no plans to hold him up much longer. Just needed to run pass an idea.

“So…” Tony began which got Peter to snap his attention to him. “There’s something I think we need to discuss.”

Peter’s brows furrowed in question. “Like what?”

There was a tinge of worry, of concern. Tony didn’t want to worry the kid. It wasn’t anything bad. Although, he may take it the wrong way.

“It’s about your daughter.”

Peter’s eyes flung open wide, the muscles along his jawline tightened and his fingers actively gripped the couch to prevent him from launching out of his seat. Peter tried to keep his cool, and Tony respected and appreciated it. It’s not easy for a parent to listen to someone else talk about their child. Unless it was to praise them.

“What about Maybelle?” Peter dangerously questioned.

Tony waved his hands, palms up to show he meant nothing nefarious like Peter may believe. “Nothing bad, I promise,” he swore, but that didn’t ease the tight tension in Peter. “I wanted to run by you about having her be… trained.”

A long, dead pause.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Tony messed up. Wrong choice of words. Peter’s face darkened, his eyes narrowed to slits, and his tone seethed with threatening promises of violence. Tony knew he needed to quickly resolve it.

“Hear me out,” Tony begged of Peter. “I don’t necessarily mean being trained like you were or the others. I meant it more like potty-training or learning to walk. You know?”

“No, I don’t.”

Tony sighed. Peter wasn’t going to make this easy. Fine. “Your daughter is showing signs of her spidey genetics—no! Don’t try to contradict me. Just the other day, I witnessed her fast reflexes. She caught a ball that should have hit her. She couldn’t have seen it coming; and yet, she grabbed it right out of the air before it could smack her head.”

Peter’s head crooked to the side. “Why was a ball being thrown at my daughter’s head?”

“I don’t know! She was playing with another kid. Someone else’s son from SHIELD. I don’t remember, but I remember that the ball should have hit her. She snatched it right out of the air,” Tony scooted closer to the edge of his seat, his focus drilled on Peter. “And there’s the strength too. She’s getting stronger. I know she is because I saw you wince a little when she hit you.

“You’re strong Peter,” Tony stated as fact, because it was. Peter was the strongest hero. After Hulk and Thor. “I’ve seen you get smacked around by bigger guys and not at all be bothered. So a little hit from a child wouldn’t make you flinch, but you did when Maybelle hit you. That means her strength is growing.”

Lines folded along Peter’s forehead. His mouth small and rigid, restraining the irritation that shone bright in his dark eyes. “And so now you want to send her up to the Compound?” he fumed. “Send her away from her mother to be… what? A soldier for you to—”

“Jesus Christ—no!” Tony shouted, desperately trying to get Peter to _listen_ to him. “I’m saying that she should see someone. Maybe once a week to learn how to better handle her powers. Do you want her to accidently break another kid’s arm while they play? Or worse, have her accidently kill another person with her strength? No. I bet you don’t.

“You got lucky that you were bitten by that spider at fourteen. You were already mature and knew how to function in society and around other people,” Tony went on. “So you already knew how to better handle your newfound powers when you got them, but Maybelle? She thinks her strength is normal!”

“Because it is!” Peter cried out, shaking his head. “You’re blowing it out of proportion. She’s not… I wasn’t _wincing_. It was just a reaction from her tantrum.”

“It was a reaction to her strength,” Tony corrected, “and don’t lie to me Peter. I know you better than you want to believe.”

Peter flung himself up from his seat, trying to make himself appear taller. He glared down at Tony. “She’s a normal, five-year-old girl. She doesn’t have super strength or my spider-sense. You’re imagining things.”

“I’m not.”

Peter flung up his arms and huffed as he paced in the small area behind his chair. “Unbelievable,” he muttered before he glanced to Tony. “You’re grasping at straws, Mr. Stark. Maybelle is nothing like me. She’s human. Normal.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

Tony knew Peter saw the DNA. Read the findings and understood what it meant. When Tony rescued them, he had ordered a full physical for the whole family, including their daughter. Tony’s doctors tested the daughter’s DNA and Tony showed them to Peter and MJ. Their daughter’s genetics was similar to her father’s. They both had the spidey gene, passed down from father to daughter. Maybe it wasn’t yet active, being as she was only nine months old at the time, but Tony observed Maybelle as she grew. He noticed the subtle changes, physical feats that not five year old could accomplish. And he knew. He knew that her spidey abilities were getting stronger.

Peter may deny, but it was the truth. His daughter was very much like him.

Tony pushed himself to his feet as well. “Peter—you need to face the facts,” he started, moving around the coffee table toward Peter. “You can’t hold onto this illusion that she’s normal. She’s not and it will only hurt her.”

“I’m not deluding myself,” Peter argued.

“Yes, you are,” Tony insisted, surprised by Peter’s obtuse behavior in knowing his daughter has the spider-man traits. “Your daughter can sense danger! She can hit with a strong enough force to make you _wince_ , and maybe one day she may even punch a hole in the wall. Start climbing up the walls and ceilings. Peter—you can’t deny that she’s like you!”

“ _I don’t want her to be like_ _me!_ ”

Peter’s words rang loud throughout the penthouse, reverberating far down to the other end of the apartment. Tony shut his mouth. Peter was breathing, the quick pants ragged and hard. His eyes were wet. No tears came out, but they shined with stress and emotional upheaval. Peter turned away from Tony, moving, gaining distance from him.

Tony didn’t follow him. “There’s nothing wrong with being you, Pete.”

“Yes there is,” Peter muttered, his back still turned to Tony. “She’s not doing it. I won’t allow it.”

Tony pursed his lips. “Peter—I’m not asking you to send your daughter to military school. I’m asking that someone comes once a week and teaches her to control her powers. To avoid any mishaps in the future!”

Peter spun. His eyes remained red, but still no tears. “She’s not doing it.”

“Peter—”

“I said no!” Peter roared. “I’m putting my foot down!”

“And I’m stomping on it,” Tony shot back. “You are being… ridiculous! You are letting your own trauma cloud your judgment.”

“Oh—now you recognize it as trauma,” Peter scoffed, crossing his arms. “That’s good to know.”

Tony exhausted a long sigh. “I know what happened to you as a kid was unfair and wrong, but that’s not going to happen to Maybelle,” he said in a quiet, apologetic tone. “She needs this. For her own protection and others too.”

“You mean so that you can monitor her progress. Insert a chip like you did to me. Poke and prod her like a lab rat or—”

“No, that’s not—that’s not it at all!” Tony grumbled his frustration at Peter’s absurdity accusations. “Kiddo… your daughter is unprecedented. There’s never been a kid born with powers. Everyone else in this crazy world got their powers way later in life. This is new. We have to prepare, think ahead for what’s best for Maybelle. I’m not doing it to study or poke her. It’s all to keep her safe.”

“She’s safe already,” Peter hissed through his clenched jaw. “She lives in a Tower full of SHIELD agents and heroes. What more protection could she need?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“MJ and I are raising our daughter fine. We don’t need—Maybelle doesn’t need training or control. She’s a child. She deserves fun and being silly and not… not getting involved in this shit!”

Tony inhaled. “Peter? Kid—”

“She’s my daughter!”

“I’m not saying she isn’t.”

“You’re acting like I’m—”

“Kid—”

“ _Stop calling me kid!”_ Peter bellowed, face red and eyes hurt. “I’m not a kid. I’m a father! I stopped being a kid the moment _my kid_ existed. So, stop calling me kid!”

Tony obnoxiously rolled his eyes. “Please—you’re still a child,” he returned. “You’re twenty-three years old, Peter. And being a father doesn’t make you a mature adult. Teenagers can be fathers, but would I trust them to make wisest decisions? Hell no.”

“Saying I’m not—”

“I’m saying that while you are a bright kid and a good dad—way better than Howard—you don’t always think things through,” Tony said. “You let your old feelings affect your decision-making. And if you can’t let go of the past, then you aren’t thinking ahead of the future. And that means you aren’t thinking about what’s best for Maybelle’s future.”

Peter regarded Tony for a long minute. Those red-strained eyes studied him, a defeated realization coming to the forefront.

“I don’t have a say in this, do I?”

Tony averted his gaze down for a moment, rubbing a hand across his mouth. “I wanted your blessing… but no. Don’t look at me like I’m the bad guy, okay?” he said. “I’m doing it for you and Maybelle. Do you want her to accidently hurt someone? Do you want her to be seen as a monster? Be an outcast? No. I didn’t think so.”

Why did the kid had to look at him like a monster? He wasn’t abusing Peter’s kid. He wasn’t shipping Maybelle overseas or to a boarding school. All that he asked was for Maybelle to be taught on how to better handle her powers. Once a week for an hour. He wasn’t asking for a lot.

He sniffed and brought his hand up to rake his hair back. God—he missed the days Peter looked at him with child-like admiration and wonder. Like the first day he met the kid, in the room where Peter was scared, confused and wonderfully ecstatic to meet Iron Man.

He guessed those days were long passed.

Peter glanced from Tony to the doors. “I, um… I gotta go. Just…gotta get,” he rambled as he stepped away. “I promised Maybelle I would—”

“Go,” Tony waved Peter. “Think it over, Pete. You know it’s the best thing for her.”

Peter didn’t say anything. He hurried to the doors, running out of the penthouse to be with his daughter. His frantic dash out of the penthouse made it appear like Tony back-stabbed him and sent a unit to retrieve his daughter. Tony wouldn’t do that. He learned his lesson with Peter. He wasn’t going to have Maybelle go through the same thing her father suffered through.

He wished Peter understood. But, Peter’s troubling past made it difficult for the kid to see anything clear. His worries over his daughter, and his constant attempts to keep Maybelle away from every other person at the Tower were unnecessary. No one was going to hurt Maybelle or give her a hard time. Or bully her. Or try to kill her (well, there was one incident, but he targeted Peter’s entire family. And Peter will never find out about it. Tony didn’t want the failed attempt to be another worry for Peter to dwell on).

Peter needed to get over the past. Come to terms with it, and accept the future ahead. Maybelle is Peter’s future, just like Peter is Tony’s. The past defined them, but it didn’t have to affect the ones to carry on their legacy.

Tony dropped back on the couch. His forehead fallen into his palm as he let out a deep, long breath. The future was already better. With Peter and now, Maybelle, alive and supported, Tony was at rest with whatever the future held.

The future was bright. Brighter than Tony ever saw.

He wished Peter saw that brightness too.


End file.
